The Ringer
by MollyRamone
Summary: He says he's just here to play, but what's his game? Bella thinks she's got his number, but she has no idea. A story about Irish sports, Irish accents, and the Irish mafia, all set in America.
1. I'm a Rambler, I'm a Gambler

I'm a Rambler, I'm a Gambler

"_I'm a long way from home," _Edward sang, swinging his beer back and forth with everyone else in the bar. If his mates in Ardmore heard him slurring along with some American cover band in an "Irish" pub—called so because of the O'Something name over the door and the shamrockery lining the walls—they'd never have let him live it down.

The crowd let out a roar as the lead singer belted out a final note, and then the stage went blissfully silent. A fifteen-minute break wasn't long enough, as far as Edward was concerned. The weekend had only begun, but he had a feeling he was in for hours on end of "Irish" bands butchering the songs of his people.

"They don't even know what they're singin' about." He plopped his mug back on the bar and started to kick his stool away for a stumble to the bathroom.

"Were you talking to me?"

He almost didn't answer, but just as he was about to walk away, he caught sight of the girl who'd spoken.

Well, then. Long, glossy dark hair in curls down her back. Big, brown eyes wide and waiting. Shit. Did she have to be so pretty?

"Ah, no. Just addressin' the universe in general."

The girl looked into her beer and smiled. "Oh. Okay."

Dismissed.

Except those big, brown eyes cut over to watch him. Maybe he wasn't dismissed at all. The only problem was, he really needed to take a piss, and if he hung around long enough to find out if she wanted him to stay or go, he'd likely embarrass himself.

"Save my seat?"

She shrugged and nodded. "If no one better looking comes along, sure."

Edward drew himself up to his full height, jaw unhinged. "Think you're likely to find someone better lookin' than me?"

The girl turned and gave him the once-over, color seeping high into her cheeks. Her words burned hotter than her blush. "We're in one of the biggest cities in the world. Statistically speaking, there are probably millions of men in the metro area that are better looking. At least thousands. Now, whether or not they're looking for a stool in this particular bar is another story. You're probably safe, but don't stay gone too long."

* * *

><p>So, yeah. We're two girls who love hurling (ancient Irish sport), camogie (the girls' version of hurling), and Edward Cullen. We'll try to give definitions here and there. If you're already a hurling fan, give us a shout!<p> 


	2. Look for a Cure for Her Head

Look for a Cure for Her Head

From the corner of her eye, Bella Swan watched the tall, lanky Irishman slink off toward the men's room. Jesus, but he was beautiful. She'd noticed him sitting alone at the bar and had been stealing glances from her peripheral vision all evening. Red-brown hair, a strong, slightly scruffy jaw, and as she found when he addressed her, the brightest green eyes she'd ever seen. As if all of that weren't enough to make her fidgety and flushed, when he spoke, she fell directly into lust. That voice. Deep yet velvety. That accent. It was strong and absolute music to her ears.

Bella loved all things Irish to the point of a small obsession. Some might have called it an odd fixation; she was neither of Irish descent, nor was she very close with anyone who was. She'd never even been to Ireland. There was just something about the green, green rolling hills and ancient castles she'd seen in pictures. The culture. The lore. The music. The whiskey. A corner of her mouth twitched up in a half smile as she stared into her glass of Tullamore Dew.

"No lad better-lookin', then?"

As Bella looked up into the green eyes she'd just been thinking of, her half smile morphed into a full-on smirk.

"What're ye grinnin' at like a cat with a cream-flavored arsehole?"

"Pardon?" was her first reaction, but it was followed by an embarrassingly loud burst of laughter when her brain processed the words. The gorgeous Irishman seemed quite pleased with himself at her laugh. "That's a new one for me."

* * *

><p>Obviously, we each have our own idea of what good whiskey is. Anyone care to share their favorites? And don't worry. Chapters are short but frequent, as you can see. We'll get to the hurling soon enough.<p> 


	3. Beware of the Pretty Colleens

Beware of the Pretty Colleens

The girl, still laughing, kicked the stool out and gestured with her glass of whiskey. "You must have run all the way there and back. No one even walked by, so I didn't have a chance to offer it to someone else."

"And lose my place next to the prettiest girl in all of New York? I couldn't take a chance on that."

Her smile dimmed a bit as she turned to face forward. A slim finger lifted and pointed at her glass, letting the barman know she was ready for another.

"Jameson?"

"Tullamore Dew," she corrected, aiming her grin at the man who refilled her glass.

"That shite?" The words leapt from his mouth, and he stared after them in horror. Way to insult the pretty girl. Would he ever learn to think before speaking? As quickly as he could, he changed the subject. "Do ye live here in New York? It's a grand city, all the same."

"Not in the city, no. Just here for the weekend." She sipped her whiskey with a pointed look over the rim of the glass, letting him know her choice wasn't shite at all. At least she was still talking to him.

"Ah, me too. I'm Edward, by the way. Edward Cullen."

_Well, you're a right eejit, ya feckin' gobshite. _He resisted the urge to clatter himself on the head and grabbed his beer instead.

"I'm Bella. You really came from Ireland just for the weekend? That's a long trip."

"Aye. Well, I guess I'll be here four days. Until Monday. There's a hurling tournament here, you see. Hurling is an Irish sport—three thousand years old. Oldest sport still played. And there aren't a lot of people who play it here—not the way we do in Ireland, of course—but the ones who do are putting on a big tournament, and I'm playing in it… I guess I already said that."

The Bella girl set down her glass and turned to face him, eyes sparking with interest. "You came over here just to play in an American tournament? Is that even allowed? I mean, if it's an Irish sport and you're Irish, seems like you'd have a big advantage."

Edward gulped another big swallow of beer. "Strictly speakin', it's not-"

"There you are, Anthony!"

Feckin' Jane. Edward knew she'd be trouble. Pretty Bella's brow furrowed at the name Feckin' Jane had called him, obviously confused.

"Middle name," he muttered. "Have to go now."

Bella slumped a little on her stool and waved him off with a weak laugh. "It's okay. It was nice to talk to you. Welcome to America."

Edward lingered for a moment, tipping back the last of his beer. Feckin' Jane seemed satisfied that he'd follow her, and moved toward the bar exit. Edward did take two steps in that direction, but then stopped and turned.

"I'll be honest with ye, Bella, because I'll probably never see you again. I wish I'd seen ye sooner so we could have talked longer. I wish I hadn't called your whiskey shite, even if I think it is. And I wish I'd asked you questions instead of running my damn mouth all night. Because you're about the prettiest girl I've ever seen, and when I go back to Ardmore, I'll think of you. I'll think of you and wish I had some of your words to keep when the memory of your big brown eyes fades."


	4. When the Band Finished Playing

When the Band Finished Playing, They Howled Out for More

For the second time in less than thirty minutes, Bella watched the sweet-talking Irishman walk away from her. Complete dismay held her fast to her barstool, though a part of her wanted to chase down the gorgeous man with the lovely words. Edward Cullen.

If she'd found him appealing before, the fact that he was in town for the hurling tournament sealed the deal. He was the potential man of her dreams, and she'd just let him walk away. For just a moment, she'd wanted to interrupt his concise explanation of hurling to tell him she knew exactly what it was, but…anything to keep him talking.

Bella knew the sport of hurling well. Her older brother, Emmett, played on their hometown team in Nashville, and as badly as she wished she had the skill required to play the game, she just didn't. In fact, Emmett liked to joke that she should carry around a roll of yellow caution tape in her purse. Putting a long, wooden stick in her hands and dropping her in the middle of a field with a bunch of rowdy lads and ladies chasing after a smallish ball was just asking for an accident of epic proportion. She did like to hit the ball around with the team, but the one time she'd tried to participate in a scrimmage, she'd come away with a bloody nose and a sprained finger and had somehow broken someone else's hurley. So no, Bella didn't participate physically. Instead, she was in charge of registration. She was more than fine with that.

So as she watched Edward walk out the front door of the pub, sharing his disappointment in the fact that they'd only had mere minutes to talk, she consoled herself with the fact that she would most likely see him at the next day's tournament.

"Who was _that_?"

Bella startled slightly and turned to see her sister-in-law Rosalie also gazing at Edward's retreating back.

"Um," she answered, struggling to school her features into something like disinterest. "He's playing in the tournament tomorrow."

Rosalie pursed her lips against a grin and arched an eyebrow at Bella. "It looked like he wanted to play a lot more than that."

* * *

><p>Tomorrow, you'll learn tha game o' hurlin'. Who's excited?<p> 


	5. Play the Wild Rover

Play the Wild Rover

The sliotar bounced off the bás of Edward's hurley with a satisfying _thwack_. He had to stop and watch the ball sail well over fifty yards and through the uprights. How had he given up this game? He hadn't felt so alive since his da had died four years before.

A teammate—Greg? Tommy? He still didn't know their names—leapt on his back from behind and let out a whoop of joy. Lexington's fledgling hurling club wasn't accustomed to high scores on the pitch. But then, that was the point, wasn't it?

Running backward, he gauged the general spot where the sliotar would come down after puck out from the Charleston goalkeeper. The moment it dropped, he let it bounce once and then snagged it for another point over the bar. He didn't have to move much. The keeper sent the ball the same general direction on every puck out. All Edward had to do was snag it and send it back.

If Charleston's keeper managed to send the sliotar to the other side of the pitch, Edward was there to grab and lob it back without much effort. Defense had no idea what to do with him, aside from a few well-placed blocks and one good hook from a guy who had to be half a foot taller than Edward.

When the whistle blew at the half, a hush settled over the crowd on the sidelines. The score read three goals and eighteen points for Lexington to one goal and ten points for Charleston. It wasn't a serious spanking, but Edward had been instructed to make the win look reasonable. He'd held back as much as he could.

If he were honest, he'd admit that Charleston's club was better than he'd expected. Though classed as Junior C, they'd have held their own with many of the Junior B teams. Maybe even a Junior A here and there. Lexington, however, would have floundered at the bottom of the table without Edward playing midfield.

The important thing—the thing above all other things—was that Edward was playing again. The only thing more fun would have been ten more minutes of conversation with Bella.

* * *

><p>Okay, some definitions for you.<p>

Hurley – Long, curved stick with a flat head used to hit the ball around the pitch or to protect the player. Made of Irish ash, usually around three feet long, but could be a little shorter or longer according to the player's height.

Bás – This is the flat end of the hurley. Pronounced "boss."

Sliotar – The sliotar, pronounced schlit-ter or slitter (depending on how authentic [or obnoxious] you want to be), is a ball about the size of a tennis or baseball. It looks a lot like a baseball, too, except the seams are on the outside. You can also just call it a ball, and everyone will know what you're talking about.

How to score: There are two ways to score. The first is to hit the sliotar past a keeper into a net for three points. Or you can hit it over the net through a set of crossbars (much like modern American football) for one point.

Protective gear worn: Only a helmet is required. Any other equipment is left to the discretion of the individual player. Old-school hurlers despise even the helmet.

Some modern sports that derived in some way from hurling: soccer, American football, hockey, field hockey


	6. What a Hell of a Fight

What a Hell of a Fight

"_Lexington?_" Rosalie asked Bella over a plastic cup that held the most delicious Bloody Mary. "Lexington's actually winning a match?"

"Isn't it crazy?" said Bella. "I'm not even sure they've won anything at all. Ever."

They had just finished watching Nashville win their first match of the morning and had turned their chairs around to face the field where Lexington was taking on Charleston. Seeing the score in Lexington's favor was quite a shock. Charleston was good. Lexington was…not. But this guy—this _one_ guy—was carrying the team through the match, and from the looks of things, would be doing so during the whole tournament. Bella watched him carefully. He looked comfortable on the field, like he'd grown up playing. With only a minute left in the game, Lexington would be the unexpected clear winner. When the whistle blew, the fans under the Lexington tent went wild, celebrating their first win.

Bella's brother Emmett, who had finally caught his breath after his match and was downing a bottle of water, gave his own low whistle. "Bad luck, Charleston."

"Wouldn't have believed that if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," added Jasper Whitlock, the Nashville keeper.

As the two teams shook hands and headed for the sidelines, Bella scrutinized the guy who had seemed to be responsible for the majority of Lexington's points. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his gait was somehow familiar as he strode toward the team's tent. And when the helmet came off…

_Edward_. Edward Cullen.

Holy Mother of God. He'd been handsome the night before in his jeans and fitted t-shirt, but now—red-cheeked and rumpled with sweaty hair standing on end—he looked like pure sex. He made that jersey look _good_.

Bella had known Edward would be at the tournament, and she'd kept a weather eye out for him all morning, but she hadn't expected him to be playing on such a new, obscure team. But she was extremely pleased to find that it was a team from her own home state.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, Edward turned his head in her direction. Surprise—shock, even—was the first thing to register in his expression, but then a lazy yet winning smile crept across his face.

"Anthony!" someone yelled from the sideline.

Edward snapped his head around to face whomever had yelled and jogged toward the tent. He accepted a bottle of water someone held out to him, and with one last glance in Bella's direction, he disappeared into the midst of his team, earning slaps on the back and congratulations from everyone.

Anthony. He'd definitely answered to Anthony. In fact, it was the second time Bella had heard someone call him that. Under the guise of rummaging through a cooler, she edged closer to Lexington's celebration. She could only hear a few words here and there, but as she watched from the corner of her eye, she became certain that Edward's teammates were calling him Anthony. A few of them called him Masen. For a moment, she was crestfallen that he'd lied about his name when he'd introduced himself the previous night.

But then, one by one, things began to fall into place.

Edward Cullen.

Anthony Masen.

He was straight out of Ireland. His marked accent was evidence of that truth. Cullen was decidedly more Irish than Masen. He'd registered under a pseudonym… _Here for the weekend_, she recalled him saying. And the way he played…

Bella stopped cold with her hand submerged in the ice chest.

Edward Cullen was a ringer.


	7. You Silly Old Fool

You Silly Old Fool

_Feck, feck, feck. _What the blasted hell was Bella doing at the hurling nationals? The moment Edward had locked eyes with her, he knew he'd fucked up. She was the only person on the planet, outside of Feckin' Jane and Jane's brother Alec, who had the power to utterly destroy him. What the bloody hell had he been thinking, giving Bella his real name in the bar?

All those things and more had flown through his mind the moment he locked eyes with her after the match with Charleston. What bloody choice did he have but to flash a charming grin and hope she assumed the mistake was her own?

The Lexington lads clapped him on the back and hugged him, none the wiser. They all believed him to be Alec's cousin, recently moved to the States. After the tournament was over, he'd disappear and Lexington would go back to losing. Well, at least until they'd been a team for longer than a year. Lexington was the newest team in the Gaelic Athletic Association. Winning any kind of tournament was unheard of, but nationals? Well, the odds were definitely against it.

And that's what Edward was counting on. What Liam back in Dublin was counting on. What his ma really, really needed.

All he had to do was avoid Bella at all costs. Seriously. Feck it all.


	8. A Lad That Can Beat the Whole Lot

A Lad That Can Beat the Whole Lot

Bella had Edward's number. She knew his game exactly. It wasn't uncommon for Irish hurlers to come over to the States and play, but the fact that Edward was using an alias was a giant red flag. If his teammates knew him under an assumed name, that meant he had something to hide. And the only thing he could possibly need to hide here was being illegally registered with the Gaelic Athletic Association. As a registrar, Bella wondered briefly if it was her duty to report something like that. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she contemplated the answer.

"You getting a drink or what?" asked Whitlock's new girlfriend, Alice.

Bella hadn't realized she was still bent over with her hand in the cooler. It was beginning to numb from the ice. She smiled sheepishly at Alice and poured two cold beers into red plastic cups, handing her one after she closed the cooler.

Alice narrowed her eyes. "What're you staring at over there, anyway?"

"Oh! Uh…I, uh, just thought I recognized someone." Bella knew she was caught, however, when Edward strolled by their tent and held her gaze, raising an eyebrow and giving her a tense smile. He _did_ recognize her. She gave an awkward little wave.

"Isn't that the guy from the pub last night?" Rosalie's too-loud whisper startled Bella, making her jump and slosh beer on her bare leg.

"Yeah," she answered. "I think so."

"He's good. _Really_ good."

"Yeah," Bella said again. She couldn't help but wonder briefly what else he was good at.


	9. With a Bit o' Luck

With a Bit of Luck

Edward felt Bella's hard stare on his shoulders as he took yet another point against Birmingham. He couldn't tell which was more oppressive-her gaze or the late summer sun. Jesus, but it was hot in the States. Who the feck thought August was a good time to hold a hurling tournament?

"Wide!" the ref yelled as the sliotar did indeed sail just to the right of the uprights.

Feckin' Jane raised an eyebrow at him from the sideline, and then Alec shoulder-tackled him on the field.

"We're on the same team, ya gobshite," Edward muttered.

"The way you're missing those points, I'd think you're playing for Birmingham."

The keeper pucked the ball out just past midfield. Edward dug his boots in and sprinted past Alec to snag the sliotar. One of the players from Alabama got there first and planted his feet to swing. If Edward didn't win the ball, he might not see it again for a few minutes. The problem was, the temperature was climbing. If it wasn't thirty-three degrees, he'd eat his hurley.

"Little hot for you?" The player from Birmingham paused his fight for the sliotar and eyed Edward with concern.

And for good reason. Sweat poured from beneath his helmet, and the fire in his cheeks raged. Still, he had a job to do. As much as he wanted to thank the southerner for his concern, Edward instead took advantage of the brief moment of compassion and swiped the ball.

Thank Christ for southern hospitality. The burly boy from Birmingham shook his head and lunged after Edward, but he was too slow. With a deft lift, Edward had the ball in his hand and turned to find the uprights again.

Too far. With a quick flip of his wrist, he had the ball balanced on the bas of the hurley and took off down the pitch. Jesus, but it was hot. How did Americans live like this? He stepped around a few of the lads in scarlet jerseys and found an open space on the left of the pitch. With the last of his energy, he tipped the sliotar back into his hand and swung for the point.

The white flag waved, and Edward collapsed in relief.

"Sub!" His voice broke. "Holy Mary, mother of Jesus, could somebody send me a fucking sub?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw a blue jersey run from the sidelines to take his place on the pitch. With a groan, he rolled over the line and yanked his helmet off. His unfocused gaze half registered the hazy blue sky above just before a face entered his field of vision.

"You okay?" Bella asked, brows drawn tightly over brown eyes in concern. She handed him a cloth-covered bag of ice.

"You're a goddess," he breathed.

The sharp cold jolted him back to reality. His stomach still pitched and rolled dangerously, but he thought he might be able to stand.

Mistake. The moment he was upright, Bella's pretty face swam for a second before dissolving into flesh-colored fuzz. The next time he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by about fifteen people.

"Ah, Jesus," he muttered. "Can we keep this between us?"

"He's fine," Feckin' Jane proclaimed. "No ambulance."

The crowd dispersed, except for Feckin' Jane and Bella. He sat up and took the ice pack from Bella again. She looked between him and Feckin' Jane with eyebrows raised and lips pursed. He shook his head just as the wretched blonde spoke.

"You're lucky we won that one, asshole."


	10. She's as Sweet as Apple Pie

She's as Sweet as Apple Pie

As Bella watched the pretty blonde girl stalk away, she wondered how on Earth the girl could be angry with Edward for passing out from heat exhaustion. It wasn't like the level and summer heat and humidity in New York was anything near Ireland's customary weather conditions. There was one thing to be said for the girl's ire, however. It was quite clear that she didn't have any romantic interest in Edward.

"Feckin' Jane," he mumbled as he attempted to sit up.

"Maybe you should—"

"M'fine." Edward seemed embarrassed, which was no surprise. Bella knew she'd be utterly mortified if it were she who had fainted right on the sidelines in front of God and everybody.

"Here." She handed him an ice cold bottle of water. "Drink this. Not too quickly, though," she added as he began to down the water greedily. "You don't want to get sick."

He took another long pull from the plastic bottle and dangled it from his fingers as he perched his elbows on his bent knees.

"Yer an angel, Bella. Notice none of these gobshites here seem to give a feck." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and Bella glanced up to see Edward's teammates celebrating under their tent without a care in the world. "Jesus. I've got to play another match in an hour."

She started to look around for something that would help him cool off, but as Edward wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his jersey, her eyes were drawn back to him. _Feckin' hell_, she thought, mimicking his vernacular. Bella reluctantly forced herself to look away.

"Come with me," she said, lending him a hand so he could get to his feet.

Edward pushed his disheveled hair off his forehead as Bella led him away from the pitch. "Where're we goin'?"

She stopped by her team's tent to snag a plastic grocery bag from a cooler before the others could see, then steered him behind the small brick building that housed the facilities. "I have an idea." She dropped the bag on the ground and began to pull out cloth ice packs one by one. "We'll tape these to you underneath your clothes. It should help for a little while at least."

Edward's face started to take on the pink tinge that had disappeared when he'd gone pale before fainting. "Ah, pretty Bella. Yer a genius, ye are."

Her own cheeks began to burn at the way he said her name, but before she could answer, Edward shoved her out of the way. He rounded the corner halfway and stopped, bending at the waist. The sound of retching barely covered Bella's inappropriate bark of laughter.


	11. Down Among the Dead Men

Down Among the Dead Men

Would the mortification never end? To pass out in front of a beautiful girl is one thing, but to just miss having a puke on her shoes? She'd been nicer than he deserved, especially considering how many times he'd already lied to her. And, of course, the real reason he was in America. Then there was the high probability that he'd meet the Nashville team on the pitch at some point and probably give 'em a lashing.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him from his morose thoughts. Before he could turn, a bottle of water was pressed into his hand.

"Um, here. You should swish a bit before you try to drink some."

He did as she suggested while trying to hide his face. No one deserved the kindness she gave, least of all him.

"So, you wanna tell me who Anthony really is, and why you're using his identity here?"

The chilled water stuck in his throat. For a moment, he thought about just letting it stay there and kill him. 'Twould solve a lot of problems...except for the matter of his ma's house.

"Ah, Jesus, Edward. No need to look so scared. I'm not gonna call the cops or anything. It's just hurling, for crying out loud."

With a swift glance to the left and right, and then one more over his shoulder for good measure to make sure no one else was around, Edward flopped to the ground for the second time in less than thirty minutes.

"Ye probably should call the gardaì. I'm such a phony. I have no experience with this sort of thing, either, so I'll probably just end up gettin' meself killed in the end."

He stared at Bella's Adidas, feeling sorrier for himself than ever, and that included the day he'd gotten the repossession letter from the bank. Everything he'd done since that day had led him right here, where he'd managed to fumble, fuck up, and puke, and all on the first day of the tournament. With two more days to go, who knew what else he'd bollocks by the end of it?

"Are you taking the piss?" Bella plopped down in front of him with eyebrows raised. "Experience with what? Hurling? Because I just watched you play a match while half-dead and you still made the Birmingham team look like Kindergarteners."

Edward laughed in spite of the situation and pressed a cold pack back to his forehead. "Nah, not hurling. If I had less experience with hurling, I wouldn't be in the mess. I mean dealin' with the gangsters in Dublin."

Silence. Then Bella cleared her throat. And then again.

"I'm sorry. It sounded like you said gangsters. Is that slang for something?"

"Nope. Gangsters means gangsters. Like Goodfellas or the Godfather. I borrowed money from them, and now they want it back. And I can't stop passing out and puking long enough to win it for them."

Silence again.

"Holy shit."


	12. Don't You Know I'm the Law?

Don't You Know I'm the Law?

"Holy shit."

It was the first and only thing that came to mind. Bella wasn't sure whether Edward was fooling around or being serious, but he certainly wasn't laughing. Instead, worry ringed his eyes, and shame darkened them. She couldn't help the fleeting thought that her day had turned from silly romantic comedy to mystery to drama all within a couple of hours. "Gangsters," she repeated. "Like the mafia."

"Exactly like that," said Edward.

"Huh." She didn't know if she should pry, but it almost seemed like he _wanted_ to confide in her, a complete stranger he'd met an entire twelve hours ago. He might've just won two matches in a row, but he looked defeated. "So you…what? Like bet on the tournament so you can pay back the…the mafia?" The word sounded silly coming from her mouth. Like Edward had said, all she could think of were gangster movies. Pinstriped suits. Speakeasies. Al Capone. She shook off the imagery and watched as Edward regarded her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I know what's going through yer head," he said with a hint of a smirk. "It's not a movie from the nineteen-thirties, love."

_Love?_ God, the way Irish boys spoke. "I wasn't thinking that. And you didn't answer me."

He gave a deep sigh and moved tossed the spent ice pack to the ground, picking up another one to press to the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Bella's eyebrows drew together. "Were you planning on throwing the…rigging the tournament or something?"

"No!" he assured her quickly. "No, nothing like that."

"So this is why everyone else calls you Anthony. Wait. So are you Edward or Anthony?"

He sighed heavily again. "Here, I'm Anthony Masen. Back home, I'm Edward Cullen."

"I—I'm not sure if I can believe you."

"You want proof of identification? 'Cause a wallet doesn't exactly fit in me kit." He gestured to the short white shorts Bella had admittedly admired earlier in the day.

"Later," she said. "Right now, I'm dead center of a moral quandary."

"Feck, I wouldn't blame ye if ye turned me in."

Bella took the ice pack from his hand and reapplied it to the back of his neck. "I should. I really should. It's sort of my responsibility in a way. But…"

"But?" He bit his lip, ostensibly to hide a small smile. "What, pretty Bella?"

"Would you stop calling me that?" she asked, feeling a blush that was probably covered by the slight sunburn she felt coming on. "It makes it really hard for me to be disappointed in you."

Edward pursed his lips, trying again to hide a smile but failing miserably. "Ah, _does_ it now—"

Bella held up a hand to interrupt him. "Seriously. Stop. I _should_ turn you in. But I don't know if I can punish the entire Lexington club for your exploits."

"But some—"

"No!" she shouted and clapped a hand over his mouth, startling him. "I don't want to know. Don't tell me anything else. I'd rather stay in the dark. That goes for the tournament _and_ the…mafia." The word still felt bizarre on her tongue. "The less I know about either situation, the better off I am."

"Pretty Bella, ye have no idea how right ye truly are."


	13. Fire Was In My Blood

Fire Was In My Blood

"Three matches in one day is enough to kill a man," Edward grumbled, "but then you Americans play in a feckin' oven. Hurling wasn't hard enough for you already?"

He crammed his hurley in a ragged bag-the one he'd carried until he turned sixteen and his father passed away. Without complaint, he'd tucked the well-used bag into a closet and hadn't pulled it out again until the day he'd boarded the plane for New York.

A scarred hurl stood behind the front door at his ma's house. On occasion, he took it outside for wall ball. Simply smacking the sliotar against a solid brick wall had given him an outlet for his rage and depression, and had also apparently kept his reflexes sharp. When someone loved hurling as much as Edward did, the skill never really faded. Just like riding a bike, he'd needed only a quick puck around and training session to remember the feel of the hurley in his hand and the sliotar off the bás.

"You didn't do something stupid like tell that Nashville hick why you're here, did you?"

Feckin' Jane's question came out of the blue, and he didn't have a chance to school his features into anything but fear.

"She's a lovely girl," was all he could say.

Of all the reassurances he should have given, the only words that escaped were in defense of Bella. He really didn't know how to deal with the Irish mafia. Of course, Liam had people everywhere, even Lexington, Kentucky. Even worse, Jane and Alec were his niece and nephew. Creepy as fuck twins who watched every move he made. If they'd just let up for a minute, he probably would have relaxed and kept his mouth shut.

"Dumb move, _Anthony._"

He winced at the fake name and her tone. Feckin' Jane was murder on the pitch. He didn't doubt she'd gladly take her brand of killin' off pitch, too. What had he been thinking, spilling his guts to Bella?

"She better not let me catch her alone."

Edward whipped his head up to see Jane staring across the field at Bella, who was blessedly surrounded by several burly Nashville players. The biggest of the lads had his arm around her shoulders. If Edward didn't see the resemblance between them plain as day, he'd have dealt with jealousy on top of gut-wrenching fear.

"And if she opens her mouth, her team can't save her. You know that, don't you?"

Fighting back yet another round of vomit, Edward finally managed to form a response that didn't give Feckin' Jane all the power.

"Ah, Jesus, Jane. It's just hurlin'."


	14. Beauty of Your Name

Beauty of Your Name

"Where've you been, Bella?" Emmett asked, throwing his arm around her and dropping a brotherly kiss to the top of her head. "You missed the end of a royal ass-kicking!"

Bella had just come back from helping Edward cool down to find that Nashville had just defeated Roanoke. She felt somewhat guilty for leaving her team while they were playing their third match of the day, but…who could really blame her?

"Sorry, Em," she said. "I was just—"

"Swan!" Whitlock interrupted, pressing a beer into Emmett's hand. "You killed it, man."

Bella chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stood tucked under her brother's arm. She was grateful for Whitlock's intrusion. In all honesty, she hadn't actually thought of a good excuse for being absent for the last twenty or so minutes. She glanced over at the Lexington tent again to see the blonde girl sneering at an exhausted Edward. The girl seemed to have a major heap of contempt for him. She'd all but kicked him in the side when he'd collapsed from the heat, and even though he'd carried their team to victory three times that day, she seemed to be downright cruel to him. Was this girl connected with the mafia thing Edward had told her about? Bella still felt silly thinking the word, but from the looks of things, the situation was no laughing matter. For some reason, she believed every word he had told her.

At the pub later that night, Bella wondered how Edward was feeling and whether she'd see him there. When she was on her second whiskey of the night—Jameson this time—she spied him across the room, holding a Guinness and chatting with one of his teammates. He didn't look unwell at _all_. He was downright handsome. His hair looked darker and damp, like he'd only recently showered, and he wore those fitted jeans and t-shirt like nobody's business. Edward seemed to search the room when his conversation ended, and she hoped with everything in her that he was looking for her. Even if she knew he could only bring trouble with him, she wanted to be near him, if only to hear him call her pretty in that gorgeous accent.

His gaze finally landed on her, and his face seemed to brighten. He didn't hesitate to approach her, greeting her with a nod.

"Bella."

"Edw—_Anthony_," she said, heart stuttering at her near slip-up.

He furrowed his brow and took a pull from his glass. "Americans. Can't pour a pint to save their lives."

"No good?" she asked, taking a sip from her own drink.

He wrinkled his nose. "It's not the worst, but not like back home. What about you? Still drinkin' that shite near-whiskey?"

"No," she said, holding her glass to her chest. "It's Jameson tonight. And Tullamore Dew's not shite."

"Good to see you step up your game with a real drink. And aye, it _is_ shite."

"It's cheaper."

"It's shite." A grin spread over his face, and she knew he was teasing her. His green eyes held her gaze just a beat too long before he looked around the pub. There was another cover band playing, different from the night before but just as bad. "What do you reckon about this place?"

"Not the worst," she answered, copying his expression and returning his flirty grin.

"Well, _you're_ here, anyway. And that, Pretty Bella, makes it my favorite place in the world right now."

A self-conscious heat spread over her face, sending a tingling heat down her neck and into her chest. His pretty words would be the death of her.

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><p>We love you guys so much! Thanks so much for the reviews. We will try to answer each of you at least once, but we're two girls with full-time jobs and freelancing on the side. Our first priority outside of making the money is to get you the next chapter ASAP. Please know we read and sigh over every word you send our way.<p> 


	15. All Those Endearing Young Charms

All Those Endearing Young Charms

Was that a sunburn or a blush? Could he really make the pretty girl with big brown eyes blush? He tried, anyway.

Feckin' Jane's glare from the other side of the pub put a bit of a damper on things, though. How was he supposed to chat up a girl with the possibility of death and dismemberment hovering at the back of his mind? The devil twins took their jobs too seriously. At least Liam knew how to laugh. Liam would probably sponsor a dinner with Bella-as a last meal of sorts, of course, but he was a thoughtful guy.

"So is Jane making sure you play as hard as you can?" Bella's voice cut through Edward's morbid thoughts.

"Aye. I'm an investment of sorts. I really shouldn't be telling you this stuff. It's dangerous, like."

Bella snorted into her beer. "Have you seen my brother? I grew up unafraid of anything because Emmett can solve problems with one punch. She doesn't look like she'd be any match for his fist. Not that I've ever seen him hit a girl, but I don't think he'd hesitate if one threatened me."

"I wouldn't discount Jane, love. A bullet is always faster than a fist."

"Oh." Bella's eyes grew wide...and then wider still as his words hit home. "Oooh. So I should start walking now, since she's headed this way."

Edward swung his head toward the other side of the pub and saw Jane was indeed on the move. Two steps later, Alec joined her, both staring holes through Bella's head.

"They probably won't do anything with so many people around, but best not to test them. Introduce me to your brother?"

Bella huffed a laugh and tossed her head in Emmett's direction. "They must be bad news if meeting my six-foot-five brother sounds less scary. Come on, then."

The brother in question watched their approach with a steely gaze. Score one point for the protective instincts. Too bad Emmett was prepared to protect Bella from the wrong person. Edward pasted a smile on his face and raised his eyebrows to erase any lingering worry lines. The expression of polite interest had been perfected over the past four years, more as a method to keep his ma from worrying, if nothing else.

Fat lot of good that did him.


	16. They Liked His Native Smile

They Liked His Native Smile

Truth be told, Bella had worried about introducing Edward to Emmett, but it was certainly better than the alternative: being "introduced" to the devil twins, as Edward had called them. She needn't have worried. He and Emmett were getting along like a house on fire. She was somewhat surprised. Though her brother stood almost six inches taller than him and was considerably bulkier, Edward didn't seem intimidated at all. Emmett was protective, to say the least, and at first, he'd regarded Edward the way any older brother would. True to what she'd seen of Edward in the last twenty-four hours, he'd charmed not only Emmett, but the lot of their nearby friends as well.

As the guys from the team asked Edward endless questions about hurling in Ireland, Bella didn't miss the way he stood slightly behind her, almost herding her into the midst of the group. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jane's unfailing, unwavering scowl. Hours ago, Bella had been worried that the blonde harpy had had her sights set on Edward in a very different way. Now, though, a chill went through her as she turned her head slightly toward Jane. Not only was she a shrew…she was dangerous. The only change in Jane's expression was the eyebrow she slowly raised as Bella met her glare.

The feel of Edward's hand on her back drew her back into the moment. It was unexpected and thrilling at once.

"Buy you another drink?" he asked, nodding at her empty glass.

She nodded, trying to fight the schmaltzy look that threatened to take over her face. "Whatever you're having."

"Right, then," he said, nudging her closer to Emmett before he left for the bar.

"He seems like a good guy," said Emmett. "But…I don't know. Maybe he's a bit too nice."

Bella snorted. "Em, you'll find fault with anyone I introduce you to. Is there such a thing as being too nice, anyway?"

"It is if you're hiding something."

"Well…" She gulped as her eyes darted briefly toward the devil twins. "I don't know about all that. I think he's genuine."

"He's certainly charming," Rosalie butted in from Emmett's other side. "And…you know…attractive."

Bella suppressed a smirk at Rose's carefully chosen words. "He is that, isn't he?"

Emmett shot them both a warning look, and Bella turned her attention back to the bar, where she expected to see Edward.

He wasn't there.

Her heart rate picked up, and she darted toward the bar, hoping he'd just been lost in the throng of drinkers clutching cash and demanding beer. She whipped her head from side to side to search the crowd but came up with nothing.

After a moment of experiencing the purest panic she'd ever felt in her twenty-two years, the wind was knocked out of her when she spied him coming back from the restrooms. She rushed toward him and, in an act that would've been against her better judgment at any other time, threw her arms around him.

"What's this?" he asked, amusement filling his voice. "Not that I'm not pleased—"

"Oh, God. I thought they'd…" Bella felt cheeks flame and backed off slightly, feeling a bit silly for her overreaction. "I don't know what I thought."


	17. Run Like Hell Away

Run Like Hell Away

"Well, this is cozy."

Edward tore his gaze from Bella, heart flipping before sinking to his shoes. Jane and Alec stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the way into the main room of the pub. The four were crammed into the small hallway with only two bathrooms and a fire door as possible escapes. Since the restrooms would only prolong captivity, Edward made a snap decision and dragged Bella to the end of the corridor.

Amid the scream of the alarm and the confusion and havoc it caused inside the pub, Edward and Bella ran down the dirty, cinder-block hall to another door at the end. A quick glance over his shoulder told Edward Jane and Alec were in pursuit. Just before they hit the bar for the door to the outside, a bouncer in a black shirt caught up to the evil twins. Feckin' Jane stepped around the muscle-bound man, intent on the chase, but a hand wrapped quickly around her elbow stopped her short.

"I shouldn't run," Bella gasped. "Seriously, this is not a good ideaaa!"

Her word trailed for a moment and then cut off as she belly-flopped to the ground. Edward pulled for a moment on her hand but stopped when the door slammed closed behind them. The bouncer had done his job for the moment, so Edward crouched to check Bella for injuries.

"Jesus, you all right there?"

"I can't run."

Bella's matter-of-fact tone, coupled with her sprawled form on the pavement, ripped a bark of laughter from Edward.

"No shit, girleen. You made it twenty steps or so. Very important steps." He reached out a hand and helped her up. "We should probably keep going if you're able. That bouncer won't hold the devil twins for long."

"I'm fine. Let's go find somewhere to hide until we can get safely back to the group."

Dark corners and locked doors. Why did that conjure indecent thoughts? He glanced down at Bella and found her looking up at him, cheeks flushed and lips parted. Well, if the previous thoughts hadn't sent blood rushing south of the belt, her expression would have.

"God, if I don't do this, I'll hate meself forever."

With the devil twins hot on their heels and an Irish mafia boss dictating his every move, Edward took one minute out of his crazy, hectic, endangered life to slip his hand through her silky hair, grasp her neck, and pull her mouth to his.

* * *

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	18. Easy and Slow

Easy and Slow

_Oh, God,_ was the only somewhat coherent thought shooting through Bella's mind. With Edward's lips pressed firmly and hungrily against hers, she felt like she might fall straight to the ground again. Somewhere in the course of one day, her life had turned into a movie: discovering Edward's secret, being completely and totally swept off her feet by him every time he called her pretty, running from the mafia…

And now the beautiful Irish man was kissing her. Kissing her like he meant it.

Somehow, they'd ducked into a side alley behind the bar, and Bella found herself breathless as Edward pressed her against a wall. She was grateful for his strong arm surrounding her waist, because her knees were wobbly, her head foggy. His other hand held her at the back of her neck as his lips tugged at hers, urging her to deepen the kiss. He pulled away too soon for her liking, but that was probably for the best. Bella wasn't the type to make out in dark alleys with boys she barely knew.

"Wow," she whispered. "I…"

"Jesus." He grinned as he looked down at her with half-closed eyes.

"That…"

"Yeah."

She was relieved to find that he seemed to be having as much trouble with words as she was. After a moment, Edward cleared his throat and moved his hand from the back of her neck to trace her cheekbone.

"This blush," he said quietly. "It's beautiful."

Bella knew that if he kept looking at her like that, he'd see much more of that blush. She could only think of one thing to say. "Thank you."

He laughed and released his grip on her waist. "You're welcome." Leaning to the side slightly, Edward peeked around the corner of the brick wall. "Emmett's probably wondering where you went off to."

"Probably." Bella sighed, slightly disappointed that their time alone together was up.

Edward obviously didn't miss the somewhat discontented look in her eyes. He trailed his hand down her bare arm, making her shiver despite the muggy August night, and took her hand in his to pull her against him. Pressing his lips to hers one last time, he whispered against her mouth, "Mark my words, love. There'll be more of that soon, to be sure."


	19. Beer, Beer, Beer, Tiddily Beer

Beer, Beer, Beer, Tiddily Beer

Too many pints the night before left Edward with a sore head the next day. He'd been so drunk on Bella that he'd forgotten to chase the black stuff with water. A quick glance at his phone told him he had an hour to get his head on right or lose it for good when he lost the first match.

He grabbed a Gatorade out of the mini-fridge by the bed and winced as he took a massive gulp.

"What the hell's wrong with Lucozade that they can't sell it here in the States?" he muttered. "Pure salt."

The electrolytes or whatever Gatorade promised started working within minutes. He finished the bottle and stumbled to the shower. As he scrubbed his head, he thought back to the final shared kiss with Bella at her hotel room door. He'd have gladly gone inside except for two things: First, he really was a little afraid of her brother. Also, Bella was special. Too special to rush things.

"Even if I don't die today, there's always Monday," he grumbled. "Should've taken her to bed."

By the time he joined his team in the breakfast area of the hotel, he felt well and truly sorry for himself. His head no longer hurt, but he felt a sluggishness in his muscles that warned to trouble later.

Across the room, Bella stood, radiant and smiling. There was a girl who could hold her whiskey. He liked her all the more, knowing that. Her gaze met his and her stunning grin grew into a breathtaking smile. A discreet nod of her head told him to meet her outside. He grabbed a bagel and hoofed it to the door, sluggish muscles be damned.

"I shouldn't have kept you out so late," she murmured, running a gentle finger over the circles under his eyes.

"Eh, the fault is me own. It's the Guinness, not you. Besides, it was worth every missed point today."

A shadow crossed her face and she scowled. "You have to win. Have you had enough water? You need water. What else will make you feel better?"

Oh, any manner of things. Lips. Hands. Tongue. The thought must have been apparent in his expression, because she reached out and swatted his chest with a laugh.

"Be good, and you might get your wish."

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><p>Sorry for the slow updates the past two days. SunKing has been celebrating her birthday and away from a computer. We'll pick back up on Monday with two or three updates per day. As always, thanks so much for all the support!<p> 


	20. When Trouble Would Press

When Trouble Would Press

Edward might've looked a bit worse for the wear, but with the way he was playing in his second match of the day, the casual onlooker would never know that he probably felt like shite. Bella knew he was struggling, though, and it made her nervous. If she hadn't known that the devil twins were watching his every move—Jane from the sidelines and Alec on the field—she wouldn't care quite so much whether Lexington won or lost. All day, she'd been keeping one eye on Edward's team and the other on Nashville.

"Why don't you just join the Lexington team?" Rosalie said, nudging Bella in the side.

"Huh?" she asked, whipping her head back around to face the field where Nashville was playing Birmingham.

"You've been paying more attention to them than anything else all day."

She knew Rose was just teasing her, but Bella wasn't only watching Edward because he looked…_so_ damned good. Granted, that was _one_ of the reasons. But greater than her desire to watch him dominate the field was the need to make sure he was safe. All morning, she'd itched to go to him, but he'd asked her that morning to stay away, to minimize her contact with the devil twins. _Please just keep near to your brother and friends,_ he'd said earlier that morning after breakfast. _You just watch after yourself. I'll be grand._

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Can't say I blame you," Rose said as she stretched her limbs and got up from her camp chair to fix a Bloody Mary. "There's a certain Irish stud who's been casting glances in your direction all day, too. Where'd you two disappear to last night, anyway?"

"Oh," Bella said. "We…just went somewhere quieter to grab a bite to eat." It wasn't a complete lie. The alley behind the bar was a very quiet place.

"Well, don't look now, but that stud is headed this way…with company." Rose arched an eyebrow and looked over Bella's head.

_Company?_ she thought. Her heart rate picked up before she even saw him. When she turned to meet his gaze, he shook his head minutely, begging her with his eyes to stay right where she was.

She wouldn't have thought much of it if he hadn't been flanked by both Alec and Feckin' Jane.

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><p>Thanks so much for the birthday wishes! SK<p> 


	21. Prowlin' on Their Beat

Prowlin' on Their Beat

Feckin' Jane and Alec standing within a hundred feet of Bella was the last thing Edward wanted, but the devil twins had insisted. Edward prayed his girl would figure out some way to school the scared-shitless expression on her face before her friends realized something wasn't right. If the devil twins suspected she'd shared any of the situation with others, they'd kill her without a second thought. Worse, Liam might hop a plane and come deal with the whole lot of 'em.

"Lexington!" Bella's brother lit up like a torch when they drew near. "You guys are killing it!"

Edward pasted a smile on his face and held his gaze fast on Emmett. "Nashville isn't lookin' too bad, either. We may meet at the final."

"Can we get you a beer? Or Rosalie has been serving up some dangerous Bloody Marys." Jasper, the Nashville keeper, pulled a bottle of craft beer from his cooler and tipped it toward Alec.

"I wouldn't mind a Bloody Mary," Feckin' Jane said, with emphasis on the word _bloody._ "My matches are done for the day. All I have to do today is watch."

Again with the emphasis. If Bella didn't cop on with their appearance at her tent, she had the number now. Edward sent her what he hoped was an apologetic look.

Her small smile made him feel like a million bucks, but it disappeared with the next words out of Alice's mouth.

"Have a seat, guys. We can watch Denver and Indy together. Does everyone in your tent have something to drink? We can take some over."

Christ, why did everyone from Nashville have to be so nice? Edward's hopes for a quick escape went up in flames as Feckin' Jane accepted the chair Alice offered and plopped down with her red Solo cup. Alec dropped to the ground next to her and finally accepted the beer Jasper had been trying to foist upon him.

"Can we get you something, Anthony? You can have one before your next match, right?" Jasper pulled another beer from the cooler and waggled his eyebrows.

From her spot in the chair, Feckin' Jane leveled a menacing glare. Edward hadn't intended to accept the drink, especially since he still had a weak head from the night before, but her determination to terrorize him almost sparked rebellion. Wasn't worth it. Even one beer could destroy the balance he'd found during the first match of the day.

"Thanks very much, but I'll pass until later. Still in the horrors after last night."

After a very uncomfortable twenty minutes, during which Denver beat up on Indy on the pitch, the devil twins must have been convinced Bella's friends knew nothing. With a very significant stare in his girl's direction, Feckin' Jane thanked the Nashville team for the drinks and pulled Alec by the arm back to the Lexington tent.

"Have to get ready for the next match," he mumbled as he was led away.

"Not sure I've ever seen a henpecked brother before." Rosalie raised an eyebrow at their retreating forms.

"Henpecked brother, cousin, random person on the street. I think anyone who comes in contact with Feckin' Jane is henpecked."

Emmett let out a guffaw. "You're their cousin?"

He'd forgotten that was the story, but it clicked again, and Edward nodded. "Aye. Convinced there's a better life here in the States." His gaze slid across to Bella, whose cheeks were still bright red from the brush with the devil twins. "So far, so good."

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><p>Thanks for the sweet reviews. We read and love them all! We have the best readers. :)<p> 


	22. Then the War Did Soon Engage

The War Did Soon Engage

Never in her life had Bella reached the level of anxiety she felt as she watched Lexington slowly slip behind in their next match. With only five minutes to go, Edward's team was down by one goal and one point. There was still time to turn it around, but the team was looking sloppy, and Edward was beyond exhausted. Bella twisted her fingers together as she watched the sliotar sail toward the goal only to be deflected by Jacksonville's keeper. She kept her eyes fixed on Edward, not even daring glance peripherally at Feckin' Jane on the sidelines.

_Come on, Edward,_ she thought to herself. Every muscle in her body tensed as he seemed to snatch the sliotar out of the air and send it soaring over the bar. _Just four more of those! _

Edward turned his head toward her, and even from a distance, even through the cage of his helmet, she could see a renewed sense of determination wash over him. Bella mustered up her most enthusiastic smile for him when he cast his eyes her way. He held his shoulders back and looked away to prepare for the puck out.

The Jacksonville keeper had a great strike that sent the sliotar hurtling straight for the goal. Edward sprinted back from midfield to assist Lexington's half-forward, who caught the ball easily and hand-passed it straight to him before he was tackled by Jacksonville's fullback. Time sped up as Edward hit the sweet spot, and once again, the ball soared easily through the air and over the bar.

"Come on, defense!" Emmett's booming cheer startled Bella. She'd had no idea her home team was cheering so eagerly for them. "Just keep the ball outta there!"

"Just get the ball to Edward," Bella mumbled. Jacksonville's keeper sent the puck out to the exact same spot as before. Edward snatched the sliotar straight from the air, but his strike was blocked by another midfielder. The cracking clash of hurls was loud enough to be heard the next field over. Edward wasted no time charging after his opponent, attempting to hook him from behind, but he wasn't quick enough. The midfielder attempted a goal, and Bella sucked in a breath, feeling like her heart would burst out of her chest. It was a near miss as Lexington's keeper was able to stretch and knock the sliotar out with the tip of his hurl. Alec recovered the ball and passed to Edward, who scored another seemingly effortless point. He was pushing it, she could tell, but he somehow managed to score yet again. And again.

With the score tied up, the atmosphere crackled with suspense. Most of Nashville and all of Lexington were on their feet as Bella watched the timer on her phone count down the last twenty seconds. Puck out. Fumble. Clash. Recover. Tackle. And somehow, suddenly, Edward was standing midfield with the sliotar in his hand and two Jacksonville halfbacks charging toward him. A loud crack rang out over the field, and Bella clasped her hands tightly together and watched the ball speed far over the bar just before the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

"Yeah!" Emmett shouted. "Up Lexington!"

Bella collapsed into her folding chair with a hand over her heart, out of breath like she'd been sprinting around the field with Edward's team. Her relief was short-lived as she watched Edward and one of the halfbacks roll around on the ground post-tackle.

"Oh!" She gasped and stood again, but before she could take a single step, Edward was back up on his feet, pulling his helmet off and yelling for water. Without a single thought, Bella grabbed an icy bottle and darted toward him, throwing her arms around him when they met halfway between the field and his tent.

"Whoa there," Edward said through panting breaths. "I'm soaked and smelly, like." She pulled back in time to see him wince and handed him the water bottle, which he took eagerly, gulping down half and then pouring the other half over his head.

"I don't care. Are you hurt?" She covered his left hand where he was holding his side.

"Nah. Just a bruise." He looked down at her so tenderly that Bella couldn't resist rising up on her toes to press a kiss to his sweaty cheek.


	23. Go Dig Me a Grave

Go Dig Me a Grave

With Bella in his arms, the last thing Edward wanted was to head back to the Lexington team's tent, but what he _did_ want to do wasn't fit for daylight in the middle of a hurling pitch.

"I better go celebrate with the lads. They'll want to congratulate me, like."

Bella laughed and stepped back, one hand brushing down her shirt to dry the damp of his sweat. "Be sure they beat down that ego a bit while they're at it."

A look toward the sideline told Edward that Feckin' Jane would be more than happy to beat him. "That match was a little too close for comfort. I imagine she'll have some words for me. Just so I remember how important it is to win."

How right he was. As soon as Edward was close enough for Feckin' Jane to reach, she grabbed his elbow and jerked him toward her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want to die?"

"Yer makin' a scene, like. Should we go somewhere else so you can clatter me in private?" Edward forced a casual tone. The last thing he wanted was to be alone somewhere with Feckin' Jane, but he couldn't afford anyone copping on this late in the game.

The blonde's eyes narrowed, cheeks blazed red, and fists shook. Still, she seemed to agree her public rebuke was a bad idea, because grabbed him 'round the elbow again and dragged him twenty yards from the Lexington tent.

"You're hanging on by a thin thread, you bastard. You're here to get Uncle Liam's money back and that's all, do you hear me? Not to hook up with random skanks or drink your weight in Guinness—"

"You alright there, Anthony?"

A booming voice from the Nashville tent cut through the harpy's final threats. Edward cringed. Had she been screaming loudly enough for Emmett to overhear? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Edward couldn't bear to have the blood of his new friends on his hands.

Bella peeked around her brother's shoulder, eyes wide. Oh, they'd heard, all right.

"Looks like Uncle Liam will be here in the morning." Feckin' Jane's eyes sparkled with malice and something like glee.

Fuck.


	24. In the Midst of the Row

In the Midst of the Row

Whatever Jane had said to Edward—or threatened him with, as it seemed—had worked. He and his team were faring much better in the last deciding match, the one that would determine which team would play Nashville in the final the next day. Bella's hometown team had secured one of the two spots for the championship, and they were celebrating on the sidelines. She couldn't have been happier for the team, but she also couldn't tear her eyes away from the field where Lexington was currently dominating New Orleans.

She also knew that if Lexington won the second spot, she'd betray her own team by silently rooting for Edward to take the championship the next day.

"What'll you do if Lexington wins this one?" Emmett teased, mirroring her thoughts. "It's either your own brother or your little boyfriend there." He nodded toward the field, where Edward had just scored another point.

"He's not my boyfriend," she muttered, though she wished he was. In fact, it had just struck her that morning that Edward had told her when they met that he was only there for the weekend. He'd most likely be going back to Ireland Monday.

The fact that she didn't answer Emmett's mostly joking question must not have gone unnoticed, because he raised an eyebrow at her as he handed her another beer.

The clock counted down the last minute, and Lexington's spectators were already cheering and celebrating the fact that they'd pretty much annihilated the New Orleans team. The ref blew the whistle, and that was that. The two teams shook hands before leaving the pitch, but Edward didn't trudge toward the sidelines with the rest of his exhausted team. He dropped his helmet and hurl and plopped down right in the middle of the pitch, chest still heaving as he tried to gather himself. Bella didn't hesitate to go to him, giggling to herself when she realized that he seemed to end up on the ground after almost every match. He opened his eyes when her shadow fell across his face.

"Pretty Bella," he said, wrapping a hand around the back of her calf.

She grinned and sat down next to him. "You were brilliant, Edward."

"Yeah." He breathed in and out deeply through his nose.

"So humble," Bella mumbled before leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

"Ah, that's better than any trophy, to be sure."

_Feck._ How was she going to let this beautiful boy and his beautiful words walk out of her life in just two days' time?

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><p>Thanks again for all the love! We're having a blast writing this, so we're glad you guys like reading it. ;)<p> 


	25. Change Your Name, Go Out With Game

Change Your Name, Go Out With Game

With Bella by his side, Edward stared at the sky and listened to the sound of retreating hurlers. Some left in defeat; some left with the anticipation of potential championship the next day. None, he would wager, had the sense of complete dread that filled his chest.

Cool fingers brushed over his brow, and he jumped.

"Sorry. They're probably cold from holding my beer."

"'S'grand." He reached up and pressed them into his forehead again.

Bella answered with a huffed laugh and mini-massage. Where did this girl come from? And how in the name of Christ had he been lucky enough to meet her?

"What's your story, Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Your life story. You know, all that stuff people talk about when they meet."

Her touch disappeared, and his eyes popped open to find her. She'd flopped down next to him with an arm over her eyes to block the late sun.

"I don't think so. If we're doing this life story thing, you're definitely first. I've bitten my tongue for two days now."

Well, a right mess he'd just gotten himself into. She had a point, though. All the danger he'd put her in, and she never complained and never asked. All that did was make him more curious about her, but she did deserve more. Especially if he hoped to have something with this girl after the whole sorry affair ended the next day.

"What d'ye want to know?"

"Really, Edward? What could I possibly want to know?"

He jumped to his feet with a laugh. "I brought something for ye."

The crowds had disappeared, save for two small clusters of people at the outer edges of the pitches. One group was Bella's friends. The other, the devil twins. Edward gave a jaunty wave to the first and his middle finger to the second.

The Lexington group had left his gear bag untouched. He snagged it and loped back to where Bella sat with a bemused smile. Positioning himself so the creepy kids couldn't see, he dug around in a side pocket. Bella took the offered papers as he sat, still blocking the twins' view.

"It's me passport," he explained. "The real me."

She was quiet for a moment as she studied the document. Her fingers trailed over the lines, stopping here and there before touching the photo.

"You're twenty?" she asked.

"Yeah. Nearly twenty-one. You?"

"Twenty-two."

"Ahh, an older woman."

She shot a dark look, eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, before pointing to the next line. "And this is your name in Irish?"

_Éadbhard Ò Cuileann_. The words made him smile. "Aye. Everyone learns the Irish spelling of their name as wee ones."

"Well, this is a start, but it's not everything. Where did you learn to play hurling? Why does everyone here call you Anthony? How the hell do you know the devil twins?"

"Oh. All that stuff. So, you know how it works in Ireland, right? No one, not even the most famous of hurlers, gets paid for playing. Doesn't matter, though. We play for love of the game. I played in Ardmore from the time I was two years of age. From the moment I could hold a hurley, like. When I was fifteen, there was talk of me playing for Waterford Seniors. It's like...professional baseball here, I suppose. I was good. Really good."

"You still are," she murmured.

"Thanks very much. Never happened, though. My da died when I was sixteen, and I became the man of the house, like. Had to get a job to help me ma. No more time for training and matches." His voice broke and sent flames of shame shooting through his cheeks. "Didn't matter what I did. Last year, we got the notice that the bank would take her house. We needed ten thousand euros. I couldn't possibly make that in me job—not in time to save it. So, I went to Dublin and talked to Liam Shaughnessy."

When Bella didn't shiver in fear the way an Irish girl would, Edward cleared his throat. "He's like the Godfather of the Irish mafia."

She let out a slow breath and finished with a quiet, "Jesus."


	26. At Least She's Not Said No

At Least She's Not Said No

"So…what? Did Liam give you the money?" Bella asked, finally realizing just how dire Edward's situation was.

"Ah, no." He grinned slyly at her. "I want to hear a little about ye now."

Though she was somewhat displeased about being left hanging on the edge of her seat, she smiled back at him and gave in. "What do you want to know?"

"Where does a lass so sweet and pretty come from?"

Bella's face grew hot. "Well, I was born in Kentucky."

"Were ye, now?"

"Louisville. But my parents moved us to Nashville when I was in first grade."

A wrinkle appeared between Edward's eyebrows. "What age is that?"

"Oh. I guess school's different here, huh? I was six."

He nodded. "And why did ye move?"

"Mom just liked Nashville and had always wanted to live there. And because my dad is a complete and total sap for her, he pretty much indulges her every desire." At the softening of Edward's expression, Bella realized that maybe she'd used the wrong words. His father was gone. It was clear that he missed him terribly, and here she was calling her dad a sap. She cleared her throat. "It's sweet, really."

"It is," he agreed. "What about the rest o' your family? Do ye have more siblings? Cousins?"

"It's just Emmett and me. No cousins. No aunts or uncles. My parents were both only children."

"So am I."

"Yeah?" She wasn't sure why she was surprised to hear that. "I thought maybe you'd come from a big family. Though I guess I can see it now. The only-child syndrome."

"What's that?"

"You know. The ego and all that."

"Yer right sassy, girleen." Edward reached forward and poked her in the side, tickling her until they were both breathless from laughter. In the tussle, they ended up lying side by side again. Right there, right in the middle of the pitch, right in front of all the stragglers on the sidelines, he pulled her close to him and, with one hand on the back of her neck, pressed his forehead to hers. "But I like it."

"You do?"

"Wouldn't have ye any other way."

And then his lips were on hers, soft yet tenacious. His tongue traced her bottom lip and pushed into her mouth, and Bella thought she could die right then and be the happiest she'd ever been. His kiss deepened, still gentle but persistent. She could feel her heartbeat in every part of her body.

"Yo, Masen!" Emmett's voice boomed suddenly from a distance.

The two broke apart, startled as if they'd just remembered where they were. Edward pushed up on his elbows and angled his body away from Bella's.

"Quit manhandling my sister and let's get to the pub!"

* * *

><p>Many thanks to the FicSisters for featuring us this week! We're very flattered. :)<p> 


	27. Isn't It the Truth I Told Ya?

Bella sipped at a brown ale and waited for more answers. Edward kept an eye on the devil twins, who were mercifully chatting with the rest of the Lexington team. Maybe they'd just decided to leave him be until Liam could get into town. Whatever the reason, Edward was grateful.

"So, yeah. Liam gave me the money. And a year to pay it back. I managed to work off about half, but when my time was up, he came lookin' for the rest. And that's how I got here."

Bella's eyes rolled as she licked a bit of foam from her top lip. Edward's gaze drifted to her small, pink tongue and followed its track. What would she do if he just leant over and took that mouth with his? Would she keep pressing for answers, or would she give in and let him love her for the little time they had left?

Ah, Jesus. Love? That was the Guinness talking, all right. Oh, but Bella was talking again.

"I said, 'That still doesn't tell me anything.'"

"Right, so. I tend to put it out of mind when I can. In Ireland, people bet on everything, like. Will the royal baby be a boy or girl? Will Brad and Angelina get divorced? Will O'Malley down at the corner pub croak before the year is through? Whatever ye want to bet on, the bookies'll take it. They weigh the odds and let you know what you can win. Liam saw a chance to get his money back that way."

Her pint glass hit the table with a thunk. Eyes wide, she licked her lips and leaned forward. Christ, with the lips again. When could they leave the bar without attracting too much notice?

"He bet on the worst team and sent you over here to win it for him." It wasn't a question.

"Aye. If not for the near miss with Waterford Seniors, I wouldn't have even had to change me name. I was good enough that some of the Irish here in the States might have remembered me. I could have just transferred from the Ardmore club back in March."

"And all you have to do to be free is to win tomorrow?"

"Well, that was the original plan. But I think Feckin' Jane has called Liam, and that changes the game. If he does come over here, no one's safe. I mean no one."

Bella's fingers trembled on her glass before she tightened them and took another sip. "Then I guess we need to make the most of the time we know we have."

He might have misunderstood her, except she trailed her foot up the inside of his leg. She must've lost her shoe at some point, because her warm toes pressed into the tender skin at the back of his knee before moving back down slowly to his ankle.

Well, then. He could forget impending death long enough to take Bella to bed.


	28. Kissed Her the Whole Night Long

Kissed Her the Whole Night Long

Bella had never felt this bold before. Maybe it was the influence of the beer. Maybe it was the way Edward was tracing the lines of her palm with his long finger. He leveled her with a burning stare across the small table when she trailed her bare foot over his calf, and color rose high on his cheeks, making it clear that he got the message. He took a sip of his Guinness without breaking eye contact, then tilted his head toward the door in silent question. If Edward kept looking at her like he was now, Bella thought, she would disintegrate into a smoldering pile of ash. Her lips parted as she took a stuttering breath, and he stood abruptly, taking her hand and pulling her up from her chair. She stood on slightly wobbly legs that grew more confident in their stride as he led her to the front door.

They'd barely made it a block down the sidewalk when Edward pulled her close with a hand on her lower back so that they were pressed together from chest to knee. Bella fisted her hands in the sides of his t-shirt and closed her eyes as he dropped a soft kiss on her blazing cheek, but then she felt him freeze and stiffen. When she opened her eyes, he was glaring at something over the top of her head. She didn't even need to look; she knew exactly what he was scowling at.

"Anthony!" Feckin' Jane's steely voice carried across the short distance.

_OH, no_, Bella thought. _That bitch is not ruining this for me._ She pushed away from Edward, grabbed his hand, and ran.

He staggered forward in surprise but then kept up easily, chuckling at her effort. "Should ye be running, love? Don't forget last time…"

"Hush, you," she said with a laugh, even as she managed to stumble a bit and prove his point.

His laugh was loud and clear as he pulled her to an abrupt stop and turned around. "Here. Hop on me back."

"What? No!"

Despite her protests, and with the devil twins hot on their trail, he crouched down, grabbed the backs of her legs, and hoisted her onto his back. Bella squealed and held on tight as he started to run again. If she wasn't so uncomfortable from being bounced around, and if she wasn't so terrified that he'd drop her, she might have enjoyed having her arms and legs wrapped around his firm body.

"There!" she shouted, pointing to a yellow taxi a few yards in front of them.

Edward sprinted to the cab and skidded to a stop, depositing her safely on the ground so he could open the door and nudge her inside. She scooted halfway across the bench seat to make room…but not _too_ much room.

"Where to?" the driver barked.

"Doesn't matter," Edward muttered, grinning and raising an eyebrow at Bella.

She giggled and gave the cabbie the address for their hotel. As soon as the cab screeched away from the curb, Edward grabbed her with one hand at her waist and the other at the back of her head. Without a word or a thought, he crushed his mouth to hers, cutting off her laughter. She was thrilled that the mood hadn't been broken for him; in fact, it only seemed to fuel the fire in his blood. The hand at her waist dipped down below the waistband of her shorts, and her heart rate picked up a crazed rhythm. She needed out. She needed to be closer to him.

"Stop!" she said against his mouth. "Here."

Edward's loosened his grip, and his lips and tongue ceased their movement.

"Not you," she murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. "We're here."

He groaned softly, and Bella tossed a few bills at the cab driver. "Let's go."

"In a hurry, love?" Edward asked with a cockeyed grin.

"Yeah." She nipped his earlobe. "I kind of am."

* * *

><p>So… Tiff and SK are actually TOGETHER. Like, in person, hanging out and drinking beer. That's why this is so later. Accept our apologies?<p> 


	29. They All Got Entangled

They All Got Entangled

As they climbed out of the taxi, Edward spotted the devil twins pushing through the revolving door ahead of them.

"Well, that's no' gonna work. Shite." Edward snagged Bella's hand and pulled her back against his chest. "Where else can we go?"

Bella looked around with big eyes and shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. We're two blocks from Times Square, Edward. No such thing as quiet and dark around here."

Before Feckin' Jane could turn and see them, Edward dragged Bella into the shadows of the alley. "Here's good."

She started to respond, but he swallowed the response as he covered her mouth with his. Melting. Christ, what was it with this girl? Why did Bella make him feel he'd never kissed another girl before?

With hands tangled in her hair and bodies pressed tightly against the outer wall of the hotel, he claimed. Devoured. Fingers left the silky strands and trailed to the hem of her shirt, hesitating...waiting for her rebuke. None came. Slowly, still listening for hesitation, feeling for it, he slid higher. Over the warm skin and taut muscle.

She gasped on his tongue as a wary thumb brushed over the satin of her bra. Still no stop sign. Her hips surged forward as he found the hardened peak and scraped lightly with his nail.

"Yes," she hissed. "Jesus, Edward."

He reached down with his free hand and hitched her leg to his hip, grinding against her heat. Would she let him inside? Could he make her come here in a dark alley two nights before returning to Ireland?

"What's going on here?" A voice broke through the haze of lust.

Edward tore his lips from his girl's and turned to the interruption, heart racing. His first fear was that he'd have to let her go. Only after that did he consider that Alec may have found them.

Nothing so sinister as that. A New York City beat cop stood at the mouth of the alley, flashlight aimed into the shadow where they stood. Edward dropped Bella's leg in relief and shielded her from the prying eyes of the garda.

"Yeah, you'll have to take this somewhere else," the young man said. He looked almost as embarrassed as Edward felt. "Uh, there's a hotel right next door."

Bella let out a quiet snort. "The man has a point."


	30. There's Trouble Ahead

"Right, so." Edward raked a hand through his hair and blew out a long, nervous breath when the cop had moved on.

Bella tugged on his belt loops and reached up to kiss his jaw, unfazed by the interruption. "Let's take this upstairs."

"Aye." Though his cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears were bright red with guilt, there was a spark in his eye that said his lust hadn't been extinguished either.

They walked hand-in-hand to the revolving door of their hotel and pushed through. The bright lights of the lobby thrust them back into reality, and a sudden shyness settled over them as they waited for the elevator. Goosebumps broke out over Bella's skin when Edward's thumb brushed her lower back just under the hem of her shirt. She swallowed hard and jumped when the elevator arrived with its customary ping. Edward chuckled and pressed his hand to her back to urge her inside.

Bella wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her flaming face into his chest as they shot up to the fifteenth floor. Mere seconds later, the elevator chimed again, and Edward guided her toward his room. Instead of going right for his key card, he grabbed her hips and pushed her gently against the door. "Is this—?"

"Grand." She pressed her lips to his roughly, and they picked up easily where they'd left off. Edward's hands began to roam again as their kiss deepened and grew desperate. "Inside," she said, unembarrassed by the double entendre.

He fumbled with the key and somehow managed to get the door open before Bella burst into flames right in the hallway. As he kicked the door shut, she slipped her hands underneath his shirt and pushed it all the way up, exploring his skin with her fingers and then with her mouth. Stumbling backward, Edward moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge, pulling her forward until she stood between his knees. His hands traced her body, moving down her sides, around to the back of her knees and up again. As he gazed up at her, his thumbs slid under the hem of her short shorts and brushed over the curve at the top of her thighs. Bella shuddered.

Suddenly, he stopped and chuckled humorlessly, pressing his face into the soft skin of her stomach. "Shite," he muttered, voice muffled by the fabric of her top. "As if there haven't been enough interruptions tonight. Bella, love, I don't have…I don't have a condom."

A wave of heat shot through her. "Oh! Um. Neither do I."

He shook his head and looked up at her again, drawing her down to his lap to kiss her softly. "It's just…I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"Me neither," she whispered.

"But"—he swallowed hard and pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder—"you make me want to do all sorts of things I don't normally do."

She'd melt before this night was over. "I'll go…find one," she said softly. Before he could protest, and before she could think twice, she stood and hightailed it to the door.

The front desk clerk in the lobby was incredibly accommodating when she leaned over the counter, told him her name was Rosalie Swan, and said she'd lost her key card. In an instant, she had a brand new key for room twenty fifty-five. Bella's luck was brilliant. As she'd hoped, Rose and Emmett's room was empty and—_hallelujah!_—there was a strip of Trojans peeking out of her brother's bag. The thought of helping herself to her brother's condoms grossed her out mildly, but these were desperate times, and desperate measures were called for.

She grabbed a few—because who knew?—and booked it back to the elevator. The trip five floors down took a matter of seconds, and Bella wasted no time squeezing through the slow-moving doors as soon as the space they made was wide enough for her to fit through. As she approached Edward's room, she slowed a bit, willing her heart and breathing to calm. He'd left the door ajar for her, a thought that made her smile and sent a thrill down her spine. But when she pushed it wide open, that happy feeling was replaced by one of sheer panic. Edward wasn't where she'd left him at all, and he wasn't alone. Instead of lounging shirtless on the bed, he was sitting on the far side of the room, wrists bound to the arms of a chair. His eyes grew wide when they met hers, and he shook his head as he struggled against the ties.

"What—" Before Bella could even formulate her question, Feckin' Jane turned toward her and fixed her with a scowl that was nastier than look of derision. But those cold, calculating eyes weren't what scared her.

What scared her was the fact that she was looking straight down the barrel of a gun.


	31. Come Out and Fight Me Like a Man

Any words Edward could have given Bella in reassurance froze in his throat. All he could do was beg her with his eyes to run. At least, he hoped that was what his desperate gaze said. His stomach did a flip when Bella stepped further into the room. He really needed to work on his facial expressions. Couldn't she see his panic? Couldn't she see the bloody fucking _gun_?

"Um, hi Jane." Bella stepped in closer, despite Edward's frantic head shake. "What's going on?"

Feckin' Jane let out a chilly giggle and gestured to Edward's head with the little revolver. "I was just about to find out how much Edward has told you and your friends. Now that you're here, I can just ask you."

"Well, I don't know much. I know Anthony's your cousin, but that just seems really weird, since you're pointing a gun at him and all. Some strange family dynamics, but I don't judge."

"Oh, cut the bullshit." Feckin' Jane waved the gun toward the bed in a gesture for Bella to sit.

Edward's eyes cut to the floor in a message, but Bella hadn't quite understood him the first time. She stumbled on her way to the edge of the bed, but caught herself with a frown. Still across the room, she wasn't far enough to avoid a bullet. As she sat, she hunched over and hugged her legs, trembling. He wanted to run to her, but the damn hurling grip tape Jane had used to bind him didn't budge.

"So, Edward has shared his whole sordid secret."

Bella's face went white as she whipped her head toward Edward. He shook his head hard.

"Um, who's Edward?" Her lips tripped over the words. Not convincing enough.

"You're kind of cute, really. You don't even know him, but you're trying to save him. You could just walk away if you tell the truth." Feckin' Jane stepped around the bed closest to Edward on her way toward Bella. The gun leveled on Bella's face, not quite blank range but close enough.

Bella surged forward, hurley in hand. She'd understood him after all! Her stumble to the bed had been a ploy to grab his hurl from the bag on the floor. With a weak-side swing, she knocked the gun out of Feckin' Jane's hands. Oh, how he wished he could see Jane's face!

With Bella's second swing, he did. Bella hit Jane's cheek so hard with the bás of the hurl that the blonde's head turned almost all the way around. Her blue eyes rolled up into her head. But Bella wasn't done. As the little bitch crumpled to the floor, Bella raised the stick high over her head and completed with a vicious chop down that clunked ominously.

Edward let out a shaky breath, torn between fear and being more turned on than he'd ever been in his life. Who was this girl? "Jesus, Bella. Didja kill her?"

* * *

><p>Sorry for the lack of updates! SK has been on vacay, but our regular updates will resume this coming week. Thanks for being so understanding!<p> 


	32. Not a Bit Shy

Not a Bit Shy

Bella stared at Feckin' Jane in horror. What had she done? She hadn't intended to get quite so carried away. She knelt next to her and laid two fingers against her neck. "No," she said in answer to Edward's half-joking question. "No, she's alive."

With the toe of his shoe, Edward nudged the bruised and bloodied girl lying on the floor in front of him. She groaned quietly but didn't stir. He sighed, shrugged, and addressed his own problems. "Bella? A bit o' help here?"

Bella shook herself out of her stupor and stood to free him from his restraints. "Grip tape? She's resourceful; I'll give her that much."

Edward chuckled in spite of the situation but grimaced when Bella started to tug the tape from his skin. "Shite," he muttered.

"Sorry. I'll do it fast, okay? Like a Band-Aid." She ripped the grip tape from his arm, drawing a couple of low curses from him. Truth be told, it kind of turned her on. Again.

He rubbed at his wrists as he stood from the chair and kicked at Feckin' Jane's arm again. Still, she didn't stir. "Well, then." His face was a jumble of emotions that Bella couldn't read.

"We've got to get out of here." She grabbed Edward's bag and backed toward the door, but he lingered far too long for her taste. "Edward!"

He nodded and snatched up his slightly bloody hurley. "Aye. Let's go."

In the elevator, Bella bit her lip, worried now that she'd just sealed Edward's fate. He wore a similar expression as he stared at his hurl.

"Edward, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do. Shit. I'm sorry!"

"What? What are you on about?" He stroked his hands down her back to rest at her hips.

Was he kidding? She pulled back to read his features, but he only seemed bewildered by her reaction. "I—I thought…" Her hands trailed from his shoulders down his chest. "I just got you into more trouble."

He chuckled and drew her to him so he could kiss her cheek. "There's not much more trouble I could find at this point, love."

"But I—"

He pressed his mouth to hers to cut her off. "Didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done with a gun pointed at them. They won't do anything they hadn't already planned to do to me tomorrow."

"Edward, I—"

Again, he shut her up in her most favorite way. He kissed her good and proper, his tongue sweeping against hers, growing almost frantic. Bella had lost count of how many times he'd pushed her up against a wall and kissed her crazy this weekend, but she wasn't complaining—quite the opposite, in fact. As he reached down to draw her leg up and hook it around his waist, she pushed her thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him closer and feeling him grind against her in just the right spot. He dragged his lips away from hers to trail down her neck. His tongue against the curve where her neck and shoulder met made her crave it against _all_ her curves.

"Ah, hell." His voice came in hot breaths against her skin before he pulled back to take her mouth again. "If I'm dying tomorrow, I'll damned well make love to you tonight."

A certain trembling took over her body, making her eternally grateful for the support of the wall and his body pressing her tightly against it. "Well, then." She reached into her pocket and produced the strip of condoms. "It's a good thing I brought these."

* * *

><p>Sorry for the longish wait! We're hard at work getting our reserve of chapters built back up so we can get back to the frequent updates. Thanks for being patient. :)<p> 


	33. Mo Chuisle

Mo Chuisle

Bella tried the keycard three times before the little green light yielded. By the time she'd stuffed the card back into her pocket and wrestled the door open, Edward had his hands wrapped around the back of her neck, thumbs tracing the lines of her jaw. Before the solid clunk sounded, shutting out the rest of the hotel, his mouth was on hers again.

"I need you to know," he said between kisses, groaning when her fingers tugged the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, "You're not just a..."

"Shut up," she mumbled against his lips. "I don't even want to think about it."

Edward pulled away and stared into her eyes for a moment, seeing a flicker of self-doubt, of self-consciousness. She tried to blink it away, but he caught everything. "I mean it, Bella. I don't know what it is about you. Why I told you everything. I just know I like you a lot. More than I should…"

"I said shut up." The doubt swimming in her gaze sharpened into something fierce and lovely.

Before he could say another word, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted. His reassurances died on his lips. Apparently, she didn't need them. Instead of giving her words, he tried to say it all with his kiss. One to the arch of her brow to let her know he saw her. Really saw her. One to the tender skin beneath her ear to tell her he listened. And then he claimed her mouth-a promise that he'd be hers as long as he lived or as long as she let him. Whichever came first.

Her soft hands slid over the planes of his chest, hardened from work around his house and training on the hurling pitch. With a hitch in her breath, she tore her mouth from his and pressed kisses to the muscles she found as she slid to her knees.

"Ah, no." With gentle hands around her arms, he lifted her and led her to the bed. "I think you deserve a little attention first."

Bella's muffled protest turned swiftly to little gasps as he slid his hands under her shirt and lifted. How had he only known this girl for two days? As her pale skin came into view, he felt as though he'd waited years for her. She lifted for a moment so he could ease the little shirt over her head and then watched as he simply stared.

"Um, I know you said you don't do this kind of thing," she started, but he silenced her with a look.

"I don't. You should let me look my fill. You're beautiful."

And she was, with pale skin flushing under his gaze. Lips parted, waiting for his. Only a thin scrap of lace and her tiny shorts hiding her from him. Well, that wouldn't do. Suddenly, he couldn't get her naked quickly enough.

Her delighted shriek filled his ears as he pounced, left hand at her neck while the right slipped over the denim at her hips to the long legs below. Arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. Then hands shoved at the waistband of his jeans.

"Off," she demanded.

He took only a moment to comply before dragging her little shorts away, too. She lifted to him, nails dragging lightly over his back as his mouth wrapped around a lacy peak. And then the lace was gone, as she jerked the straps down her shoulders and tossed the bra over to the other side of the room.

Edward laughed, a deep rumble that covered them, and then traced the same path down her stomach she'd attempted on him. Only, she didn't stop him when he slipped the last of her clothing away and the heat of his breath tickled the skin between her thighs. Oh, but she squirmed.

And then she begged and pleaded, writhed and cried out as he thanked her, loved her, worshipped her with his tongue. As she floated back to earth, shuddering and gasping, he pressed his forehead into the softness of her stomach. Her fingers dragged through his hair and over his scalp, and the weight of the day crashed down on him.

When Bella's touch stilled, he looked up and found her eyes closed, a sexy smile on her swollen lips. She had to be as exhausted as he was.

"Come on, love." He stood and pulled down the comforter.

She didn't even open her eyes as he lifted her and slid her between the sheets. Her protest was whispered. "Now you."

"We've got all night. Just rest for now."

He crawled in behind her and pulled her close, every inch of her pressed against him. Edward's last thought before sleep took over was that he wished he could get at least one more night with Bella just like this one.

* * *

><p>The chapter title (pronounced macushla) means "my pulse." Thanks so much for all the love you've sent our way!<p> 


	34. The Case Against You Is Quite Clear

Bella jerked awake in the middle of the night, panicked and disoriented for a moment until she felt Edward stir behind her. His arm tightened around her slightly as he mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. A tranquil smile spread over her face and heat rushed through her body as she recalled his hands, his tongue, his mouth on her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a heavy banging on the door to her room. She bolted upright, pulling free from Edward's grasp and waking him in the process.

"Shit!" she whispered.

"What's goin' on?" Edward asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Another sharp knock on the door answered the question for her. Bella scrambled out of bed, her heart thudding, blood rushing in her ears. "Do you think—"

"Feck," Edward interrupted, scrubbing his hands over his face, then through his messy hair.

She tip-toed quickly to the door, wrapping a robe around herself as she went. A glance through the peephole revealed a distorted image of her brother's grinning face. She yanked the door open a crack and squinted at the harsh lighting in the hallway.

"What the hell, Emmett?" she grumbled. "It's two in the morning."

"Bella," he said, dragging out the last syllable of her name in a drunken slur. "Just checking in. Where'd you run off to earlier? Didn't see you after my third drink. Or maybe my fourth. Or fifth." Emmett pushed against the door with one hand and leaned against the doorjamb with the other.

She pushed back, intent on keeping him in the hallway, but her efforts were no match for her brother's brute force. He shoved his way into the room, prattling on about some confrontation in the pub. Bella tried to cast a nervous glance at Edward without alerting Emmett to his presence, but her luck wasn't that good. His head turned slowly toward the bed, where Edward sat helpless, wide-eyed, and terrified. Forget Feckin' Jane and whatever Liam would do to him the next day. This was a thousand times worse.

Emmett glanced back and forth between Edward and Bella several times, eyes growing wider, face getting redder. Finally, his gaze landed on Edward, who shrank under the wrath of a protective older brother.

"What. The actual. Fuck?" Emmett growled.

"Em, it's not—"

"Don't tell me it's not what it looks like, Bella."

"Shite," Edward muttered. He gathered the sheet around himself so he could stand and face his fate.

Bella cast an apologetic look his way before going to stand in front of him. "Emmett, stop. This is stupid."

"The hell it is. He's taking complete advantage of you!"

She glared up at him, giving him The Look she'd inherited from their mother—the one guaranteed to take him down a notch or two. "I'm a grown woman. No one's taking advantage of anyone."

"You think he came here with his skills and his accent and his…his hair without any intent on scoring with some American girl? He'll go back home the day after tomorrow and forget all about you, and I'll have to buy a really expensive plane ticket to Ireland so I can beat his ass to a pulp."

Bella bit back an amused grin and looked back at Edward, who seemed slightly less petrified than he had moments ago. "His hair?"

Emmett threw his hands up in exasperation. "_That's_ what you take away from what I said?"

"Look." Edward took Bella's hand in his as discreetly as possible. No need to add to her brother's ire. "You've got me all wrong. For what it's worth, I didn't plan any o' this."

Emmett snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"Edward's not like that," Bella said, squeezing his hand. "I know he's not."

One eyebrow climbed Emmett's forehead slowly as he struggled to put two and two together, but nothing added up. "Who's Edward?"

"Oh," Bella's shoulders slumped as she realized her mistake...her rather profound mistake. "Feck."


	35. Confess What I've Done

"The fuck you say?"

Bella's brother clenched his fists and just stared, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. Well, then. Telling the truth may not have been the best idea here.

"Is my sister in danger?"

Edward stood up straight and met Emmett's gaze directly. "Not if I can help it."

"I think you've done enough." He started forward, arms already on the move.

Edward prepared himself for a serious blow. Emmett's muscles weren't something to take lightly.

"Stop it." Bella stepped forward and placed a hand on her brother's bulging bicep.

Emmett calmed immediately, turning concerned eyes on his sister. The love was obvious. Palpable. Not for the first time, Edward regretted bringing Bella into his mess. But he couldn't regret _her._

"I never wanted to hurt her," Edward said. "I swear on me life. Bella's something special. Something… Well, something I never expected. And I've spent so many years just doing what I had to do to get by. Never thought of meself. But then she talked to me in that bar the other night, and I just couldn't ignore the spark. I tried. I tried for her and walked out that door."

Bella smiled, her cheeks filling with color, no doubt remembering his final words. She took a step closer to him and held out her hand.

"When we saw each other again yesterday, we were already too far gone. She knew the real me, so there was no use pretending. I let myself fall for her." He turned to Bella. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be sorry! We're going to figure something out."

"No need," Emmett said, his face tightening again. "I'm just going to kill you now and save you the worry later."

"Oh, stop it," Bella said again, rolling her eyes almost affectionately. "Remember when I said I'm a grown woman? I'll say it again. I'm a grown woman. Even if Edward was looking for a one-night stand. Even if _I_ was. None of it would be your business. Now, you can help us, or you can go away."

Emmett stepped back, eyes wide, before letting out a loud guffaw. "Jesus, Bella, you get more like Mom every day."

He sat on the edge of the bed, still laughing, and turned to Edward. "If these Irish mobsters don't kill you tomorrow, you're still fucked. Mom has Dad wrapped around her little finger. I see a life full of 'yes, ma'am' and 'no, ma'am' for you."

"Sounds like Heaven," Edward said with a grin.

"You just think so now."

"Like Rosalie doesn't have you all tied up in knots?" Bella challenged, fire in her eyes.

Her brother was silent for a moment, dimples showing, and then he nodded. His gaze slid back toward Edward, and he gave a full smile. "It is Heaven; you're right."

"So, what are you going to do? Do I need to tell Nashville we're losing tomorrow to save my baby sister's new boyfriend?"

A wild burst of fire shot through Edward's chest at the word. God, he should be so lucky. And then Bella reached over and took his hand, twining their fingers together, and he realized he really _was._ In that moment, he knew what he had to do.

"No. I have a better idea. Instead of breaking me head tonight, you'll break me arm tomorrow."

Emmett rubbed the scruff on his jaw for a moment and then nodded. "That sounds fair."


	36. A Little Bit of Heaven

Emmett's lips, which had previously been pressed into a straight-lined grimace, slowly turned up at the corners as he listened to Edward's plan. He began to nod, and by the time Edward was finished, Emmett's face was alight with glee and anticipation.

Bella rolled her eyes at her brother for the twelfth time in half an hour and grabbed him by the arm, trying to haul him up from the desk chair. "Come on, Em. It's bedtime. I'm sure Rose is looking for you."

"Rose passed out forever ago," he argued, shrugging her off.

"All the more reason for you to go. Take care of your wife."

"Yeah, yeah." Emmett waved her off, but when he reached the door, he turned and held up the pilfered strip of condoms. "But I'm taking these with me!" His booming laugh could be heard in the hallway even after the door slammed shut.

"You jerk!" Bella shouted and threw a shoe at the door. She turned to Edward, who was stifling his own laugh. "Oh, you think that's funny, do you?"

"A bit." He cleared his throat and stood up, holding a hand out to her so she'd join him on the bed. She allowed him to pull her close to his body even as she pouted.

"You know those were the only ones we had, right?"

He grinned and kissed her with a certain tenderness that made every muscle in her body go slack. "There are other things," he said. He tugged on the belt of her robe, revealing her naked body to him all over again. His hands traveled softly up her sides and down her back again.

Bella's hands rested at the waist of the jeans Edward had thrown on for her brother's benefit. She undid the button and lowered the zipper before pushing them down his hips. "Bed," she mumbled. His reply was a low hum against her lips as he lay back and pulled her down on top of him. The hum turned to a sharp gasp when she took him in her hand. She covered his mouth with hers briefly before dragging her lips down his jaw, his neck, his chest… Kneeling between his knees, she cast what she hoped was a sexy glance up at him and then took him in her mouth without hesitation.

"Jesus," he muttered, pushing a hand through her curtain of brown hair so he could see her face. "Fuck, that's amazing."

Bella looked up to meet his gaze, feeling herself blush at his green eyes piercing hers, but she couldn't look away. Edward's lips were parted, eyes heavy, jaw slack. If watching her lips surround him, take him in, made him look at her like that, she'd do it forever. Seeing what she was doing to him was more of a turn-on than any touch he could've given her. His eyes dropped closed and his hands left her hair to fist in the blankets as his body eventually grew tense, winding up for release.

Bella shook his hand off when he tried to warn her and watched his gorgeous face, took in his deep, rumbling groans as she swallowed around him. When he relaxed again, she pressed a kiss to his hipbone and laid her head against his firm stomach. Edward lay motionless on the bed except for his fingers, which swept through her hair and caressed her back, leaving her feeling feminine yet powerful.

"Christ, Bella," he murmured after a few moments and pulled her up to lie next to him. "You're perfect."

She laughed and shook her head, but he caught her response with his kiss. The kind of kiss that made her chest ache. The kind of kiss she wished could last forever.

* * *

><p>A quick note from Tiff: Sorry for the lack of updates, lovelies. We've had a bit of a busy couple of weeks. SK's been getting her new book ready, and forgive me for the pimpage, but I'm incredibly excited! It's the sequel to her first release, The Kingdom. The title is The Morning Star, and it's full of lovable characters, Irish lore, and romance. (And it's currently available on Amazon.) She'll probably kick me for putting this note in here without her permission, but I can't help it. I love it!<p> 


	37. Ordinary Man, Nothin' Special

Ordinary Man, Nothin' Special, Nothin' Grand

Edward tried not to laugh when Jane turned up at breakfast with a black eye and swollen nose. She glared across the buffet but didn't say a word. He could only guess she'd been told to back off until Liam arrived...if Liam was, in fact, on the way. After all, the man still needed his money. Edward had no idea how much American hurling could pay out in Ireland, but he'd surely surpassed the amount he owed. Anything else Liam made through the final match today was just gravy. The man wasn't stupid. He'd let Edward earn the money before doling out any punishment.

And Edward hoped to be holed up in an emergency room by that point. That had to be safer than the hurling pitch.

Of course, he was basing all his decisions on hope.

"You ready for today?" Emmett nudged Edward's shoulder and nodded toward the corner where several other Nashville players sat.

The two carried their food over and sat, Emmett on one side of Bella and Edward on the other. As soon as his ass was in the chair, she reached over and covered his knee with a warm hand.

Christ, the woman was incredible. To have pursued anything with her was selfish and stupid, but he just couldn't help himself. One look in those big brown eyes and he'd been hers, completely. Now he just had to live long enough to fulfill some promises.

"Nervous, I suppose," he said in answer to Emmett's question.

"I saw Jane," Bella whispered, her lips grazing his ear.

How was he supposed to worry with Bella's mouth on him? Oh, yeah. Because Bella had actually been the one to dole out that black eye. He turned in his seat and saw Jane's glare zeroed in on Bella's back.

"Don't, under any circumstances, leave your tent today. If you have to go to the jacks, find some reason to take Emmett and Jasper and anyone else you can."

"I'm not dragging my brother to the bathroom with me," she hissed.

"You need to go, Bells?" Emmett said, eyebrows raised in concern. He knew what was up.

Edward was surprised Bella's brother hadn't just gone ahead and killed him the night before for putting his sister in danger. His arm already tingled in anticipation of the coming punishment.

"No," she snapped. "I don't need an escort to the bathroom."

Emmett met Edward's gaze over Bella's head and nodded. No one would leave her alone for even a second; not if Emmett had anything to do with it. That gave Edward the reassurance he needed to make plans beyond the match...and beyond even the emergency room.

"Are you really ready for this?" Bella's voice softened, lost its edge. "Will your plan really work?"

"Ah, I don't know, to be honest. Everything I've thought through requires everything else to happen exactly as planned."

"You mean you have more than just a broken arm? Because that would make me feel a lot better."

He grinned and pulled her close. "Aye. It's shaky at best, but it would work. There's some hiding in an emergency room and some running involved. And definitely making sure you're safe."

"Um, okay then. I'll just trust you. I guess."

* * *

><p>So many thanks to all of you for your patience. We know we promised multiple posts per day, but sometimes life. You know. We appreciate the words of encouragement, the birthday wishes, and all of your excitement. You can't know how grateful we are that you're still here with us!<p> 


	38. When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

Though she wanted to spend every last minute of the time they had left by Edward's side, Bella knew that he needed to concentrate. Plan or no plan, he needed to do his best, and distracting him was the last thing she wanted to do. So as the Junior A championship match finished up, she found herself sitting under the Nashville tent between Rose and Alice, chewing her thumbnail in anticipation of the next match, when her brother would take on her…well, Edward.

Rose poked her in the side suddenly, drawing Bella out of her thoughts. She turned away from the players shaking hands on the pitch to see her sister-in-law wearing a look of expectation.

"Sorry. Did you say something?"

"Yeah. I asked if you want to go with me to grab some more ice. I suspect we'll need cold packs for this match. It should be pretty brutal."

_If she only knew,_ Bella thought. Rose's raised brow made her wonder how much she actually _did _know. Even though Emmett usually had a problem keeping his big mouth shut, she was confident he could keep a secret of this magnitude to himself. "Yeah, ice. Okay. Let's go."

Rose laughed and threw an arm around her sister-in-law as they walked away from their tent. "You're so spacey today."

"Sorry," Bella said again.

"Can't say I blame you, though. I wouldn't want to be in your position."

"Um. My position?"

"Not knowing whose side to be on."

"Oh, yeah." She shrugged and gave a little laugh if only to relieve some of her tension. "It's rough."

They gathered their bags of ice and made their way back toward the tent, pausing halfway when they spotted the Nashville and Lexington teams warming up on the field.

"Mmf," Bella uttered as she watched Edward stretch his long limbs. His jersey rode up as he raised his arms high above his head, revealing a delicious strip of skin. She fondly remembered exploring every inch of that skin with her lips the previous night.

"He sure is something to look at," said Rose.

Bella's face flamed, and she reined in her thoughts for the time being. "Isn't he, though?"

"He's fantastic," someone behind her said in a deep brogue.

Bella turned to see a tall man smiling down at her. He nodded back at Edward, who was doing deep lunges across the field with his team. "And he's from…Kentucky, is it?"

She tore her gaze from Edward's lithe form and cleared her throat. "I really don't know him very well, but I think he just moved there."

"Ah." He nodded in the vicinity of Bella's chest. "And do you play?"

She glanced down, puzzled at first, until she realized he was gesturing at her Nashville jersey. "Oh, no." She giggled. "You don't want to get near me when I have a hurley in my hands."

He pursed his lips, though his eyes twinkled as if he were amused. "Is that a fact?"

"Well, the first time I picked one up, I ended up with a bloody nose. The second time, I broke someone's finger and bloodied someone else's nose." She went on to describe the six disastrous times she'd wielded a hurley. "And the seventh time, I…oh, wait. That was on purpose."

The man threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't the first time someone had had a good laugh at her expense, and it surely wouldn't be the last, but she didn't mind. She'd learned to accept her occasional clumsiness.

"Well, now I'm intrigued." He tapped a finger against his chin. "On purpose, eh?"

Bella turned to meet Rose's inquisitive glance and almost wished she could brag about her exploits with the seventh hurl. She shrugged. "Someone pissed me off."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, then." He chuckled again and held his hand out. "My name's Liam."

_Liam_. Bella's heart skipped a beat. Surely not. _Surely_ this man wasn't a mafia boss. In his casual clothes, with his infectious smile, his handsome face and shiny eyes and open, chatty nature… From Edward's description, there was no way this man was the head of any Irish mob.

"Seriously," she said. "How many Liams are in Ireland anyway?"

He winked. "Ah, sure there's a few."

"I'm Bella," she said, shaking his hand and nodding at Rose. "This is my sister-in-law, Rose."

"Charmed," she said without a hint of sarcasm. She loved an accent almost as much as Bella did. "What brings you here, Liam?"

He swept his arm to the side, pointing out the reason _everyone_ was there. "The tournament, of course."

"Which team, I mean," Rose clarified. "Are you from here in New York, or did you travel with another club?"

"Ah, no. I'm not here with any specific team. I heard there was a hurling tournament in town and thought I'd check it out. Some of these lads are good enough to play back home." He nodded toward the pitch. "Number eleven there, for example."

"That's my husband!" Rose said proudly. "Bella's brother."

"Is it now?" He grinned at Bella and gestured at the heavy bag of ice as she shifted it to her left hand. "My apologies for keeping you. Your ice is beginning to melt."

"Why don't you join us for a Guinness and help us cheer on Nashville since you don't have a home team?" Bella suggested.

"That would be very nice. Please. Allow me." He took the bags of ice and followed the girls back to their tent, where introductions were made and beers were distributed.

Alice, ever the head of the welcoming committee, attached herself to Liam's side and proceeded to point out every player on the team, making sure to brag extra hard about Whitlock. "And that's Anthony," she said, pointing at Edward. "He's from Lexington, but he's become something of a friend over the last two days." Her not-so-subtle wink in Bella's direction sparked an amused gleam in Liam's eye.

With the new addition temporarily occupied, Bella left the shade of the tent and walked back to stand at the sideline and ogle Edward out on the pitch. Jesus, those calves. Those broad shoulders. That messy hair she'd thoroughly enjoyed twisting her fingers through the night before. He turned to catch her staring, and she would've been embarrassed if he hadn't been regarding her with the same lustful gaze. Nah, she decided. Even then, she wouldn't have been embarrassed.

* * *

><p>Again, life has been crazy for us lately, in good and bad ways. We hope this slightly longer chapter makes up for it a little bit. :)<p> 


	39. I Think Them Days Are Near

I Think Them Days Are Near

Edward drank in the sight of Bella on the sidelines. Her gaze raked over him, as hot as her touch had been the night before. With her gold and green jersey, she was every hurler's wet dream. And she was his...at least he hoped.

The Lexington captain called for the team to gather round, so he gave Bella a rueful grin and trotted to the blue tent. He barely heard the pep talk, thinking only of how perfect his timing would have to be if he wanted to get through the day alive. Emmett would have to listen to the ref call time throughout the game to know exactly when to strike. Too soon, and Edward would have to hang around the pitch while there was no game to distract people. Too late, and Emmett's intentions would be all too clear.

With the worry shoved to the back of his mind, he flew through the first half. He and Emmett traded points and goals to keep the score nearly even. Going into the second half, Lexington was up by one goal. Those three points were enough to keep Jane in her seat with a glare. Had she made good on her threat to call Liam?

Just before the ball dropped, Edward glanced around the edges of the field, looking for the Irish mob boss. If he'd come, he was doing a bang up job of hiding. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sliotar fly toward him. With a quick grab, he snatched it from the sky and sent it sailing over the crossbar for the first point of the second half.

Emmett sent him a wink and glanced at Edward's right arm pointedly. A question sat on Emmett's brow. Was Edward ready? Did he still want a trip to the Accident and Emergency room?

Edward gritted his teeth and nodded. Would it hurt right away, or would shock mask the pain until he could get away from the park? Could he leave Bella behind while he ran from possible death?

She stood on the sidelines, hands clasped and white. He had to do whatever he could to keep her safe. He just hoped Jane and Alec-and Liam, if he'd made the trip-would follow him and leave her alone. Just to see her smile at least once more, he waggled his eyebrows and blew a kiss.

It worked. Bella's face lit up and her lips stretched into a grin. He had just enough time to soak it in before the ball bounced right in front of him. With a deft lift on to the bas, he flicked the sliotar into his hand and took off down the pitch. The scoreboard showed Nashville up by two, so it was time to try for a goal.

Luck was on his side, as he managed to solo to the Nashville goal. Jasper tried his hardest, but he was no match for Edward's strike. The crowd surrounding the pitch went wild as the scoreboard changed to reflect Lexington's one-point lead. Without stopping to revel in the excitement, Edward reversed and ran back toward midfield, ready to snag the puck out when it came.

The heat was oppressive, but he was ready. He couldn't take a chance on subbing out. If another Lex player took the pitch, he might never gain control of the scoreboard again. A Nashville player pointed from midfield to similar cheers, and then Emmett ran Edward around the pitch for a few minutes before dropping back to score another point.

Again the points volleyed as the clock wound down. With one minute to go and a tied score, Edward got his chance. He snagged the sliotar from a puck out and darted toward the Nashville goal. Emmett was hot on his heels, hurley held high. He'd promised not to interfere with any potential score Edward might get, but he'd have to swing before the final whistle, points be damned.

As he flew down the pitch, just inches from the sideline, a familiar face caught his eye. There, next to Bella, clapping along with the rest of the crowd.

Liam.

He was there. Next to Bella.

What the fuck was he on about?

A collective groan rose from the crowd as the sliotar rolled off the edge of his hurley. With eyes still on Liam, he reached for the ball. As his fingers made contact, his arm exploded.

White light filled Edward's vision, and then cleared to show the sky above. The spectators screamed in excitement, completely oblivious to Edward's pain. Emmett must have taken his shot on the ball just as Edward had reached for it. The roar of the crowd meant Emmett had scored.

And then the final whistle. He'd lost.


	40. I Fell to the Ground and Couldn't Get Up

She'd known it was coming. She'd known it for a good twelve hours now. But the knowledge that Edward was about to have his arm broken by her own brother didn't do much to keep panic at bay when it happened. She knew it wasn't possible from the distance, but she could have sworn she'd heard the crunching of bone when Emmett's hurley had made violent contact with Edward's arm.

Bella watched helplessly as he clutched at his arm and rolled over onto his back, but when the final whistle blew, she rushed to him and knelt by his side. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched in pain as she undid the snaps on his helmet and eased it off his head. Pushing the sweaty hair from his brow, she bent down to kiss his forehead. This scene felt familiar, but it meant much more to her than it had before.

"I'm so sorry, Edward!" she said, wincing as he groaned.

His eyes flew open to meet hers. "Pretty Bella. I'm not."

She grinned at he endearing term that had snagged her attention from the moment they'd met. But his expression turned from pained to angry.

"Liam." He jerked his head to the side to search the sidelines and tried to sit up.

"Don't." Bella pushed him back with a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Just lie still. So he _is_ that Liam."

Emmett appeared at Bella's side, blocking her from the view of anyone who might be interested in getting to them. "_That_ Liam?" he repeated. "What are you—"

"Jesus, Bella. I told you not to go wandering off on your own," Edward interrupted.

"He seems harmless enough."

He barked out a laugh of disbelief. "Harmless! Have ye not heard anything I've said about him?"

Emmett clenched his fists and moved closer to his sister. "What's he doing here? Did he threaten you, Bella?"

"He didn't do anything. Um. I sort of invited him over for a beer."

Edward's eyes grew wide before he covered them with his good hand. "You'll be the death of me, woman."

Lexington's team captain seemed to materialize out of nowhere with a trainer from the first aid tent. As the trainer examined Edward, Emmett pulled Bella to her feet and kept a firm hold on her elbow.

"Rose called an ambulance," he said lowly.

"An ambulance?"

"The point is to get him out of here. The more commotion, the better."

She nodded and chanced a look over her shoulder toward their tent. But there was no Liam. No Feckin' Jane or Alec. In fact, there weren't many Lexington players lingering around after their loss. Edward was apparently safe for the time being. But his team had lost. _He'd_ lost. And he had a lot more to lose.

The question was…where had Liam and the devil twins gone, and what were they up to?


	41. Ride Into the Night, Without a Trace

Ride Into the Night, Without a Trace Behind

"So it's not broken?" Bella's eyes were wide and hopeful.

"Trust Emmett to fuck that up," Edward said with a grin. "Thank Christ."

The doctor sent a reproving glance toward Edward but then smiled. "No, it's just a pretty severe bruise. You'll need a strong painkiller for the next few days, and of course, avoid any activity that might further injure the area."

Bella grimaced and shifted in her chair. No doubt she was thinking about how to finally, _finally_ fuck his brains out without further harm. At least, that's what Edward was thinking about.

"We'll manage," he said.

The two sat in silence as the doctor completed the prescription for the medicine and sent a nurse to the pharmacy to collect it. The moment the bag was in Edward's hand, he stood and laced his fingers with Bella's.

"We can't go back to the hotel," she said.

He'd already thought of that. No doubt Liam and Feckin' Jane and Useless Alec would be there waiting. Of course, they'd have to go back at some point to get their bags… Or would they?

"Can Emmett get your stuff to the airport tomorrow?"

Bella shrugged. "He might not be happy about it, but he'd do it. What about your stuff?"

"Tip for the maid?"

She nudged him with her hip and laughed. "That's not a tip; it's a punishment."

"Well, I can live without all of it. I put my ticket and passport in my gear bag this morning...just in case. I have my hurls, my helmet, my boots… The rest can stay here in America."

Bella started to laugh, but then choked a little. "I guess we're set, then. I'll go call Emmett while you get all your stuff together."

She didn't look back as she left the room, and Edward watched the whole time, just in case. He wanted to have one more smile ready for her, one more reassurance that things would be okay. But he didn't really know. His only concern was keeping the Irish mob away from Bella until he could get home. Then Liam or Feckin' Jane could do whatever they wanted.

He shouldered his bag, a difficult task with the sling, and followed, stopping to watch for a moment as she gestured wildly and paced with her phone to her ear. The conversation ended with a laugh—the one she hadn't been able to give Edward—and his heart sank. She turned and saw him watching, and her laugh slipped into a smile. That was a little better.

"He's going to bring it all. He said he'd try to get into your room to get your stuff, too. I told him no, but then I figured, if Jane or Liam managed to get in, he could let us know."

"He should stay as far away as possible," Edward said.

"Oh, I know that. And I told him as much. But since he's being stubborn, I figured, what the hell? Might as well let him do what he's going to do. Now, where are we going?"

Edward leaned against the wall and thought for a moment. "Obviously, we need a new place to stay for the night. If Liam really wants to find me, he'll check all the hotels near the hospitals. He'll start with this one, since it's closest to the park."

He looked around for a second and then sighed. "I'm surprised he isn't here already. He must be biding his time...planning the perfect shot."

Bella shuddered. "Don't say that. So, what do you think? The Village? SoHo?"

"How long does the train take to get to Jersey?" he asked. "I don't think he'd even consider looking there. Especially since my flight leaves from La Guardia tomorrow night."

"Probably thirty minutes at most. Let's go."

They grabbed a cab to the train station, bought the tickets, and filed into a car, all while watching over their shoulders. Liam's absence was almost eerie. The longer they went without seeing him, the more unsettled Edward became.

"We'll feel better once we're checked in somewhere," Bella assured him. "Out in the open, we're like sitting ducks."

And she was right. The moment the hotel room door closed behind them, Edward took a deep breath and felt—for a moment—that maybe she'd be okay.


	42. A Soft Brown Eye and a Look So Sly

"I highly doubt Liam will be peeking inside third-floor hotel room windows," Bella said as Edward peeked through the blinds. He pulled the curtains together, shutting out the evening's last light.

"It makes me feel better." He crossed the room to stand in front of her and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. "And speaking of feeling better"—he kissed her gently on the lips, only to leave her wanting more—"I need a shower."

Bella nodded and breathed out slowly, resting her forehead on his chest. Truth be told, she was tired of waiting and really just wanted to push him down on the bed and jump his bones.

"I could use a little help," he whispered against her ear.

She bit her lip against a huge grin and looked up at him, pushing her hands under his jersey to lay them flat against his abdomen. "Well, I wouldn't mind playing helper."

"No?" He caught her lips with his before she could change her mind—which she wouldn't be doing any time soon anyway.

She inched his jersey up gently, and he pulled his good arm out of its sleeve before wrapping it around her waist. The other one, of course, was much trickier. Edward winced as she helped him unfasten the sling and ease his arm out. She maneuvered the sleeve over his injured arm carefully, scared to death of hurting him further.

"I'm not made of glass, love." His voice and expression were amused, and Bella's brow smoothed out at his teasing tone. He ran a thumb over her cheekbone and ducked his head to kiss her, backing her toward the bathroom as she slid her hands underneath the elastic waistband of his shorts. His kiss grew deeper, stronger, hotter, until she had to open her eyes for fear of melting right to the bathroom floor. She broke away momentarily and reached into the tub to turn on the hot water.

"Off with this," Edward mumbled and tugged on the hem of her t-shirt. He helped as best as he could with his injured arm tucked against his chest, but she didn't need assistance. She had them both naked and ready in a matter of seconds.

They stepped under the warm spray of water and into a tangle of limbs, their lips barely parting. Bella reached for the little bottle of hotel-grade shampoo and worked the lather into Edward's hair. He gave a low, sexy moan as she scratched her nails across his scalp and tugged lightly on his shaggy hair. Their height difference and the fact that he was holding her so tightly against him didn't make things easy, but she wouldn't have changed any of it. When he tilted his head back to rinse, Bella wasted no time lathering the rest of him up, smoothing her hands over muscles and planes, working them both up as her body slipped and slid against his. He gasped when she took him in her hand, her soapy skin gliding over his. She grinned devilishly and squeezed.

"Love," he murmured.

But she knew when to stop.

Water rushed down his body in rivulets, washing away the suds and making her impatient for him. It didn't help matters when he slipped his hand between her legs and attached his lips to her neck. "Edward," she whimpered.

"As much as I want to be inside you right the fuck now…" he said against her skin.

"Yeah," she said on a sigh. "Not a good idea here."

He splayed a hand over her back, pressing her to him for one last kiss before he reached back to turn off the water. Fuck drying off. Fuck combing her hair. All she wanted was to fuck _him_.


	43. Got On a Lucky One

**Got on a Lucky One**

"Ow, fuck."

"Well, that's not gonna work." Bella pushed against Edward's chest until he stood and then rolled out from under him.

He grunted and stuck his lower lip out, but he couldn't resist cradling his injured arm. "Don't stop now. Please. I'll suffer through it."

Bella dragged the bedspread into the floor and kicked it away. "I'm not stopping. Just rearranging. You need to be on the bottom."

Her warm hand pressed against his chest again, this time to urge him onto the crisp white sheets. He flopped back without any grace and bit back a grimace when his bad elbow bounced against the mattress.

"Can you give up control?" she whispered. "Will you let me fuck you?"

The searing pain in his arm disappeared. Along with every thought in his head.

"Aye. I'd be a right eejit not to."

The corners of Bella's lips curved in a smile, and he leaned up to kiss them. First one, then the other. The teasing light in her eye flared and caught, burning hot as she reached over his head to the bedside table.

"Passport, plane ticket, and condoms, I see. You really did pack the essentials." She plucked the foil square from the strip and grinned down at him.

He started to respond, but she settled firmly on his cock. Every thought flew from his head as heat and wet surrounded him. He bucked once, desperate to be inside, but she pressed him back down with a warm hand and a smile.

"Almost," she whispered, before inching back to roll the rubber over him.

Her fingers shook, and she sent him a rueful smirk. "This isn't stupid, right? I mean, we've only known each other a couple days."

"No." He whipped his head back and forth. "Not stupid. Don't stop."

As her careful fingers slipped the condom over him, they faltered. Was she really so nervous? So scared? Of him?

"Don't be afraid of me, please. Yeah, it's just been a few days, but it feels longer, right? It does for me, anyway."

An exhale of breath. She slid her hands from his hips to his stomach and pulled in more air. "For me, too."

Fingers gripped his ribs, bit into his skin as she bit her lip. He hissed, nearly out of his mind, and covered her hands with his good one. Her tongue peeked out to soothe the lip she'd worried, and then leaned over to give the same attention to the skin under her fingertips.

"But this will change everything," she whispered, breath cooling her kisses. "Before this, I could have let you go. After, I'm not so sure."

He didn't have time to answer. She lifted and sheathed him in one sure stroke. Edward grunted and lifted to meet her, but she pushed him back down.

"I'm fucking you," she reminded him.

Slow, torturously slow. Her strokes pulled him to the brink and then pushed him away again. He could think only of her, wet and warm and tight. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, so tight.

"Will you be able to get on that plane tomorrow?" Her question came on little more than a breath. "Can you say goodbye already?"

When he didn't answer, she ground against him and sped up. "Can you?"

Edward tried to catch his breath to tell her that if he did get on the plane—if he somehow managed to give Liam the slip long enough to get back to Ardmore in one piece—he'd be back before Bella even realized he was gone.

But she didn't give him a chance to speak. Instead, she leaned over and crushed her mouth to his. Everything he'd been holding back, Edward let go of. He surged into her, nipped her tongue. What he couldn't say aloud, he said with his body. One good hand cupped her ass and urged her faster. His mouth swallowed her cries as her movements grew erratic. Tight. Tighter.

"Fuck, I think I love you," he shouted.

* * *

><p>Oops. We didn't mean to be gone so long. First one thing and then another, and since we live far away from each other, we just had a hard time getting back together. Sorry for the wait. There's another one coming soon!<p> 


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